At Last I See What Comes From Being Loved
by phantomluva
Summary: Modern day. EC. Christine is kidnapped by a very strange, very obsessive man, who frightens her with his morbid thoughts, and his sometimes evil, violent ways. But nonetheless, fear can turn into love.
1. When This All Began

_I have to admit that I am not entirely sure where to begin. There are so many things I want to say, so many feelings I want to convey in you. In short words, you are my inspiration, my reason for living...My God, I love you so._

He said that to me the very first time I ever saw him. Those were the first sentences that he uttered from the beautiful, yet terrifying lips of his. At the time, I did not know what to say. When I think back on it, and relive that moment, I still cannot come up with a sufficient reply. I was so young, so very, very young. Only seventeen. He was the first man to ever say something like that to me, and because of that, I suppose I did not believe him.

My story starts with a very ordinary, simple day...or so I thought.

I returned late from school that Thursday, because of a terrific snow storm that was powerful enough to slow traffic to a stop for three hours, yet somehow it was not bad enough for schools to be closed.

I walked into the front door and gasped at the darkness within the house. Usually my father would have been home by that time, but I soon realized that he too was probably caught in this hideous blizzard as well.

With a deep breath I closed the door and quickly hit the wall switch, and the room became illuminated immediately. I gave a sigh of relief as I looked down at my snow covered shoes, that were at the moment causing a small puddle on the floor.

You see, I hate the dark. Ever since I was a young child I would have this tremendous fear of it. I guess I feel unsafe when I am unable to see my surroundings, but I think it is more likely that I fear that something is out in that darkness. Something that is ready and simply waiting for the opportune time to reach out and...

I got carried away, sorry. The point is that I cannot stand the dark.

I stood stiffly as I let my backpack hit the ground with a bang, and rolled my aching shoulders. Even just walking from my car to the door with that damn thing made my muscles scream. Undoing the zipper quickly, I carelessly tossed my coat on the floor beside me as I knelt down to loosen the knot in my shoelaces. The first shoe was untied when I heard something that made my body freeze.

"Christine," a muffled voice called out. "Get out of here! Run!"

My hands paused in mid air. I shifted my head from side to side, trying to see where that voice came from, or even if there was a voice at all. Did I really hear anything? It might have been the wind outside, or the neighbors, but...there it was again! Someone calling my name! It only took me a second to realize that it was my father's voice, and it sounded like he was in trouble.

"Dad!" I stood quickly, and screamed his name.

What happened next only took a matter of mere seconds. The hallway light suddenly switched off, and the only bit of brightness streamed in small beams from the street lamps. I looked wildly around me, and my eyes focused on a tall figure only a few steps away. I screamed in fright and my body jumped. The jerking movements suddenly made my feet slip on the puddle of water beneath my feet, and I fell...hard onto the wooden floor.

I lost consciousness very quickly, but the last things I heard, were the sounds of my head banging, loudly onto the floor, and the sound of an intake of breath, that sounded like a male's...and it wasn't my fathers.


	2. In His Eyes

Up until that fateful night nothing particularly special ever really happened to me. Everything I ever did was for my father. I worked hard at school, and dedicated hours of my time to train for my swim team to make him proud. I slaved as a waitress in a disgusting restaurant so that he didn't have to worry about the month's rent. I cooked and cleaned for him, and I always made it evident everyday that I loved him, by telling him, or by giving him one of those big bear hugs he loved so much. I never sincerely thought that there could be another person who could love me as much as my father did.

Love was never in the picture for me, the only thing that was of any importance, was my father. Like I said before, he was really all that mattered.

I was forced awake by a rhythmic aching feeling in the back of my head. My body remained still from the stifling pain, I could not breath, I could not talk, I could not even form a complete thought, because of the throbbing. Instead, I tried to breath evenly through my mouth so that my concentration could shift away from the pain.

I laid there in agony, pure and simple, agony, when like a bolt of lighting I was struck by startling visions that flashed before my eyes. Visions-that I soon realized were actually my memories. I could clearly hear my father's voice screaming my name in my head, and with a sudden vigor I sat up.

My eyes flew open and widened. I gasped, for I gazed upon something I never thought I would see in real life, for it truly was an incredible sight. I laid in a bed, a fairly large sized bed with chrisom sheets and a large, white set of covers on top. It was surrounded by a huge mahogany headboard that lead up to a beautiful red canopy. The walls were also painted a dark red to match the bed. All of the furniture were all also made of mahogany, including a beautiful dresser, night stand, desk and dressing table,.

The room was so exquisite that for a few seconds I forgot my current situation, and all I could do was to slowly take in the sight before me. That phase however, ended quickly and I was horrified and confused as to what exactly was happening to me. My head was suddenly full of jumbled questions. Where was I? Where was my father? Was he alright?

As I thought of all the gruesome possibilities of what might have be happening, I felt another presence in the room. Sure enough I looked to my side and for the first time really looked at a man whom I would come to know very closely.

He sat, elegantly on a plush couch at the corner of the room. Dressed completely in black clothing, that contained a very rich and elegant quality, he silently watched me in my shocked state. For the true reason that I was so flabbergasted, other then every other horrifying fact that was compounding my very being, was that this stranger, who was most probably my kidnapper, and who most definitely watched me as I slept, was wearing full faced, black mask. A mask that was centered by cascading raven locks.

This man in black, who made no physical acknowledgment when seeing me awake, made my blood literally run cold. I never felt such strong fear in my life up until that moment. Every nerve in my body was jumping, yet my body remained still. I breathed rapidly, yet felt like I was being suffocated. I squeezed my hands tightly onto the covers, so much so, that both of my hands made pure white fists, yet I did not feel the heavy covers touching my skin, it felt like I was gripping air. I sat in that paralyzing fear, because the man who sat before gazed intensely at me, with a set of the most incredible eyes I have ever seen.

His eyes were a hazel gold, and with his entire body being covered in black it only accentuated those orbs. I never looked upon something so intense as those eyes, and I do not doubt that any human being who looks at eyes like that for the first time would be just as frightened and fascinated as I was.

While I sat in my stupor and looked wildly at the man beside my bed, certain words began to repeat in my head. "Kidnap" was repeated several times, but it was when I heard the word "Dad" that I awoke again and understood, at least to some extent, what my situation was.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Who are you?"

He leaned his head to the side, in an inquisitive manner when I finally spoke up. I waited for him to respond but he uttered no sound.

"Who are you?" I tried to sound strong, but my voice betrayed me horribly.

Minutes passed, I am sure of it, and even if that is a long time to be silent, it felt more like days. Even though it was hard to concentrate under his amazing gaze, I suddenly saw my fathers face in my mind. I had to protect him! I had to know if he was alright! And as quickly as I entered that strange state the stranger forced upon me, I just as quickly broke free from it.

With no more fear restricting my voice I threw every question I had at him. "Where am I? Who are you? What do you want with me? Where is my father? What have you done with him? Is he alright? Did you harm him? Is he at my home? What have you done with him? What have you done with him!?"

I somehow said all of those questions in one breath, and as my confidence grew with each one, so did my voice. By the end of my rant I was screaming with a passion as I asked him about my

father. I ran out of air and breathed heavily as I looked at a still unmoving stranger.

Why didn't he say something? I could not understand why he was acting so nonchalant about all of this. The only way he could not utter a word, or even move, was either because he could not speak, or...he could be crazy.

I looked down at my lap in a sharp head movement. For the first time the word death circled around me. He may want to kill me. It seemed unfortunately like a very good possibility; he kidnaped me, and he is wearing a mask! Obviously something was terribly amiss with this man.

There are no words to explain how you feel when you realize that you may soon be murdered, and even tortured. It's simple to merely say those words out loud, but no one can really say the right words to express the gripping fear that clings unmercifully to your soul. I, very soon, may cease to be. My god, that thought terrified me in such a way that I actually felt my heart clench in horror.

If it were any other voice, beside's his, I most probably would not have heard him above all of my conflicting thoughts. But as I would soon come to know, his voice could grab my attention no matter what was happening in my mind.

His voice contained a deep, yet light sound. The best way I could ever think to describe it would be like pressing the most purest form of silk against your cheek. That is the kind of wonderful effect his voice had, it was simply that beautiful.

"I have to admit," he uttered. "That I am not entirely sure where to begin."

I could not look at him. I instead stared into my lap and listened to his voice. I was frightened of what he might say, but I was also silently begging for him to continue speaking, just so I could hear him speak. He paused for quite sometime, but that was fine with me. As he was battling within himself for the right words to say, I was also in a confusing conflict in my mind. I could not fathom in any respect why I actually wanted to hear him speak. I had to hate this man, completely in every way, but for some reason when he spoke, those thoughts vanished. Dear god...what was going on?

"There are so many things I want to say." His voice sounded weak, like he couldn't control what was coming out of his mouth. "So many feelings, I want to convey in you."

He once again, stayed silent for a very long amount of time. I was so afraid of what he might say, that my palms became clammy, and my cheeks grew hot. After a few moments of him not speaking I nervously began to rub my hands together, but from all the perspiration they slid sloppily amongst one another. But what he said next made all of my nervous feelings halt.

"In short words," I stopped moving my hands, and listened with full attention. "You are my inspiration."

My head slowly turned to look at him. His eyes looked straight into my own, and in a way, into my soul. With the air suddenly still, I found that I could not breath, and I did not blink. Like mirroring my own feelings, he also did not blink.

Inspiration? Inspiration for what? Murder? Rape? Kidnap? This was the defying moment, what ever he said next would determine my future. Whether there would even be a future for me. Or for my father.

"My reason for living," he whispered. He said this as if he was not speaking to me. His voice made it seem like he just uttered one of the many jumbled thoughts in his head. If I was not mistaken, he said those words like he was in a trance while his eyes were locked with mine.

I, however, still had no clue as to what he wanted with me. What did that mean? I was his reason for living? I suddenly looked around the room, because I could not continue to gaze into those hypnotic eyes. My head shifted all around the room, and even if I was looking everywhere, I really wasn't seeing anything. My mind was a blank. I was just in such a state of fear, that I could not form a single thought.

"My god..." he suddenly croaked. His voice sounded like it was breaking; like it was weak. It surprised me so much that I, as if driven by some unknown gravity, met his staring orbs. They shown with a shimmer, as if they were watery. He was just as emotional as I was. What did that mean? Was he also just as scared as I?

"I love you so." He looked at me with a pleading gaze, almost questioning.

But for the first time, the table were turned. He was the one looking for answers, and I was the one who remained silent.


	3. The Trees Are Bare

Have you ever heard someone say, "I sold my soul to the devil?" If not, let me explain that it is a commonly used term, which usually has a carefree undertone to it, like a joke. Before my life changed, I use to say "I sold my soul to the devil" to my father before I went to work, and he would always laugh.

It was a funny thing to say...once. Now I would never even dare to utter such a thing, because it's meaning would be something entirely different. For me, it would not be a joke.

In some ways, it would be the truth.

When you are told that someone loves you, there are several emotions that any person goes through. First off, you cannot help but feel disbelief; and with my personality, and opinions, I find it hard to see how anyone can stand me, let alone feel something as strong as love. For most of my life, my father was the only one who I really believed cared for me.

Then you fell uncertainty, for who truly knows what love is? Especially for a girl of just seventeen years! Well, I didn't think at the time that I was totally lost on the subject, but I most certainly did not ever have serious relationships with any men that were not related to me by blood.

The fairytale assumption is that the young woman, upon hearing that infamous word, would feel love for her admirer, just as he feels for her. I don't need to tell you that my life was far from that kind of perfection.

After all of these spinning emotions clouded my thought process, two feelings soon dominated over everything else. Fear, and anger.

It's understandable that I would feel that way, because I was forced so unfairly into these circumstances. But the truth of the matter is, that among all of those confusing thoughts I did not even begin to consider the fact that things could get worse, but they did. They turned from dire, to utterly grave, and there was nothing I could do about it. Absolutely nothing.

We stared at one another, no words were shared. However our highly tense feelings, which thickened the atmosphere in the room to an extreme, seemed to silently try to help us communicate to one another. Unfortunately those emotions fell on deaf ears.

The shock was overpowering. No matter what I willed myself to do, even if my father was constantly present in my mind as I laid in that bed, my body would just not comply.

But then something miraculous happened.

The door opened, and both of our concentration's, or lack there of, were shattered. In my highly anxious state, I snapped my head to the bedroom door. There, in a small space between the frame and the door appeared an old woman's face. She peered right past me, toward the corner of the room.

"It is ready, master." She said quietly, and shut the door with great haste.

Just as random her appearance may have been, her exit was just as peculiar, yet I did not care. By her coming into the room I felt an instant relief. I did notice that, not once, did she look at me, or even show any inclination that she noticed that I was there. Her face seemed blank for the few short seconds that she graced me with her presence. I felt a sudden burst of something that was no where in my mind...hope.

Without thinking through before acting, I gave myself into my instincts and jumped out of the bed. For a split moment the covers restricted me and tangled my legs, but I felt a physical strength that exceed anything that stood in my way. No longer did my head cause me any pain, or even slow my movements.

I ran toward my only means of escape, and grasped the handle. With a great force I threw the door open and left the room in a great speed. Not even thinking where I was going, or taking in my surroundings, I screamed the one word that was continuously in my heart since this entire ordeal began.

"Help!"I screamed over and over again.

The excitement was short lived. I felt a hand latch onto my arm, and a distinct squeeze that halted my movements. I feverishly looked behind me and my sight met his black mask. My body reacted wildly, as I pulled and thrashed from side to side. My free hand latched onto my captured arm and tried in vain to help it escape, but any little effort I would make would result in a slight jerk from the frightening man.

I screamed with a fury, constantly repeating "Help! Me!". However, no one came. The mysterious woman from before did not appear and come to my rescue as I had hoped. The only sounds that echoed throughout the house were my cries, and the sound of two bodies struggling, well just one really.

He hardly moved as I tried to break loose, except for the casual pulling of his arm. I, however, was unresisting in my movements; but my body did, even in my fit of hysteria, made it sure that I never once touched his body; not even to attack him, for I did not want to provoke him in any way. I also truly felt that I was in the devil's clutch, and that thought terrified me. Not that I believed that my assailant was the devil himself, but I most definitely thought that he was someone who encompassed a soul of pure evilness.

With no physical warning, he suddenly began to walk down the hallway, effortlessly pulling me with him. I noticed that I only wore socks on my feet, and as I tired to tug my arm free by pressing my feet into the wooden floor and leaning back, I began to pathetically slip and slide in my attempts. He did not shorten his long strides, and did not quicken or slow down his regular, even nonchalant pace.

I did not stop, no matter how much I was failing. I saw him slightly turn his head to watch me in my hopelessness and my humiliating show of trying to break loose. His eyes locked with mine for a mere second as he continued to force me down the hallway, but he quickly broke it and set his gaze before us.

He opened a door and swiftly turned his body. He whipped around so quickly that I was flung into the room after him, like I was a rag doll, and easily shut the door behind him. Looking cautiously around, I saw a very elegantly arranged living room, but evens its beauty could not quiver my fear. I had no idea where I was, or even the name of my kidnapper.

His two gloved hands grabbed my shoulders and lead me unwillingly to a chair at the head of the table. I was pushed down to be seated on the plush cushion underneath his steel strength, and as he held me down he slide the chair closer to the table with his chest.

As I struggled beneath his overpowering stature, I began to feel a strong weariness spread throughout my body. I was exhausted, and suddenly my head began to pound with a newfound determination to weaken me. My legs and arms started to slow in their wailing, and my breath came out in gasping breaths. He must have noticed for I could feel his fingers loosening, ever so slightly.

My mind screamed that an opportunity was arising, but my limbs failed me. I was just too tired to fight any more. I must of banged my head harder then I thought. His iron grip lifted off my shoulders, slowly; it seemed that he was uncertain in what actions he should take. My head was roaring with the numbing pain that he caused, and I gripped the arms of the chair to ward off the feeling.

He walked in evenly paced steps around the table so that he stood opposite from me. The large table separated us, and my body twitched when I calculated the possibility of reaching the door before he did.

In a last attempt, I bolted upright to run to my escape.

"Sit down!" He yelled.

It wasn't a scream, more like a loud command, but his authoritive voice, and anger involuntarily made me sit quicker then I ran out of the bedroom earlier.

My eye's were wide, my mouth was agape, and my body was still. His voice was that powerful.

"Now," He sat across from me. He laced his fingers betwixt one another and placed his hands before him on the table. His posture was nothing short of impeccable. "We have business to discuss."

What? I thought frantically. Business? What is going on? None of it made any sense. The confusion I held must have been readable on my face, because he tilted his head foward. I followed his gaze down to see a piece of paper, and a bottle of ink with a pen, that laid on the table. I had not noticed it before. I wanted answers, and that paper may be the giver to a solution.

"It looks like a legal document," I mumbled to myself. I scanned the paper quickly and saw a signature and a golden seal of some kind.

"It is a legal document." He replied. I glanced up quickly to meet his starring gaze, and began to read the text on the paper.

_We, of sound mind and body, declare this document valid, and assure all persons who inquire that we are Erik Dessler and Christine Daae..._

"Who is Erik Dessler?" I asked as I continued to read. He stayed silent for a moment.

"I am." I did not look up this time, instead I stared at the words on the expensive page in disbelief. My eyes could not be torn away, because they were shocked to see the words that my mind refused to take in.

"This," My voice cracked in weakness. "This...says that I will marry you."

"Yes," He said. The calmness in his voice made me shiver in rage.

"What makes you think that I would do such a thing?" The anger boiling inside seeped into my tone when I spoke.

"I know exactly why you will sign that document." His voice sounded so arrogant, so full of himself. I held the arms of the chair tighter and tighter, but my anger would not decrease. "Your father."

I starred into his faceless black mask, and felt every ounce of hope seep from my heart.

"Yes Christine, your father. I know that he is your biggest weakness, I know that he is the one that you truly love and care for." His methodical voice caressed the air in the room, and made his already brazen presence even more evident and impenetrable.

"I also know that you father is very ill, is that not correct Christine?"

The tears appeared and rolled down my cheeks. My lips were parted and my mouth felt dry, so dry that I barely answered him.

"Yes..."

His eyes shown out in a glimmer of superiority. "Cancer of the lungs if I am not mistaken. It would be a shame if his illness progressed even further. Would it not?"

"Please! No!" I screamed. I did not know this man at all, but I did not doubt the sincerity in his voice. I truly believed every word he said. "Please don't do that!"

His hands unraveled and swept around so that his palms faced up. "We do not need a judge, or a priest, all of that is taken care of. If you want no harm to come to your father...then sign the paper."

I sat there in that beautiful area, while my inner self was darker then it had ever been in my life. I was left to make an impossible decision, but it was a decision that was made the moment his mentioned my father. Eventually my hand reached out to grab the pen.

Dipping it in the ink, with the stroke of the pen I signed away my very soul, to my husband.


	4. This Is The Moment

My life is such a strange tale, something that at times, not even I can comprehend. How had it all started? Where did the threads begin to unravel from the thick, strong rope that was my life?

At the time I did not know what would become of me. There was no way that I could predict the future, or even think about what my time on this earth would amount to. Not that, when I had my freedom, I knew what I wanted to do with my life-but I did not understand the complexity of the possibilities that laid before me when I was open to whatever future I could choose.

When I signed my name I did not realize what I was really doing. My life was suddenly given to a man that I hardly knew, and he held in his hands my very future, which was narrowed done to merely nothing.

Wife, and husband. That was what we were. Joined in holy matrimony. How did it happen? I always thought that I would fall in love with some wonderful man, who adored me in return, and we would exchange our vows and live forever in happiness and virtues love.

How different my dreams were from reality, that after my signature was given, I entered a state of disbelief.

He escorted me to my room, without any words. I was assured in the back of my subconscious that he was in some way, just as shocked as I, about what had transpired. We were in wedlock, like millions of others around the world, but our marriage, was entirely different.

I laid in bed in a trance, staring at the canopy above me, like I would do every other night for the rest of my life. But at that moment I stared at that canopy with such disdain in my heart, there was no future for me, except to live with some contemptible man that used a powerful bribe to gain my very being.

How could I ever come to live normally within such a place, with such a person by my side?

I fell asleep sometime among all of these thoughts and my overall feeling of loathing for my new husband. I slept and I slept and I slept. I am assured that I did not dream at all, no nightmares either. Probably because my life was a nightmare all in itself.

I slept in that overly comfortable bed for days, most definitely because my body wanted to heal itself after my terrible fall. In my head, when I awoke, it was the strangest thing, but I heard distinctly what appeared to sound like Mozart. A particular song my father especially liked. I was unsure if what I heard was real or simply something that I conjured in my mind.

I drifted in mid consciousness upon that wonderful bed, listening and admiring the beauty of the music, whether it was real or not. The beautiful piano music was not only filled with graceful melodies, perfectly conjured notes, or delicately placed phrases, it was given out with a passion; like the person playing the music was pouring their soul and heart into the notes that were given out into the still air.

I relished in that music, for I felt it mirrored the very essence of my soul. The pain, the grace and the terrific loveliness of those notes. I cried silently listening to that tune, if it was in my mind or truly there in that house, it was the explanation to what was held in my heart.

Tears fell and rested on my arm, which I used to prompt my head up as I rested. Oh how I wished my father was there to stroke my hair and to shush me quietly to an easiness that I could not reach on my own. I thought about my father in vain, thinking about how I needed to become reliant on my own person from now on. I could no longer lean on others for comfort. I had to grow up at sometime, I always knew that, ever since the death of my mother, but I never thought that I would have to make such drastic change overnight.

Well, despite what I felt or thought I had to act my age, or even older, to fend for myself. For now and always.

However...until the madness began, I would lie and listen to the overpoweringly perfection of Mozart.

I finally awoke a day or so after the whole ordeal started. I did not want to arise out of bed, but I felt compelled, for some unknown reason, to do so. Leaning on my forearms I pushed myself up to a seated position and scanned the room...my room.

It felt strange to think those things, to know that I was in possession of the objects in that area, just because I signed a damnable piece of paper. I was mistress of the household, so to speak, if my kidnapper was really the owner of that home. What thoughts compressed me...such thoughts that I any person could understand to be entirely strange and unimaginable.

I began to ponder the idea of me being married at seventeen. A girl who never really loved a man that wasn't related to her. A girl who dreamt for something bigger then what her life actually was. A girl who wished that there was someone, somewhere who understood how she really felt about life and what it was all about for herself. But a girl can only dream. And dreams can kill a person if used overly done.

I slid my body off of the bed and stood pathetically looking around the room. I did not know what to do, and I was slightly afraid of touching anything. My curiosity however pushed me forward, and I walked to the windows. I slightly pushed back the dark red curtain and looked out to the world outside. From what I could see, my room was on the first floor. The house was surrounded by large, flourishing trees, so I assumed that wherever I was, it was somewhere isolated.

It was the dead of night, and the tiny bit of brightness that emitted from the house only aloud me to see a few feet away from the house. But farther then that, all that appeared was dead, pitch black darkness between the trees.

I walked away from the window and in slow steps circled the room. I crossed my arms and softly rubbed my elbows. Looking at all the expensive furniture that I did not dare to touch, I felt my heart grow heavy in my chest. Walking, as if in a trance, I stepped closer and closer to the bedroom door.

For the first time I noticed the separate door that was ajar next to the bed. I could see that it was a bathroom, so I didn't bother looking in. Instead, I walked closer to the bedroom door, my skin rippling with uncertainty as to the reason why I was doing such a thing.

Slowly I opened the door, but only enough so that I could peer easily out into the hallway, without being noticed. Half of my face gazed out into a space that was barely visible, due to the some dimly lit candles.

Even though I saw how exquisite the hallway was, like every other room I had been in that house, what I really saw was the front door. The front door that amazingly open.

My breath suddenly quickened, making my chest expand in sharp movements. I looked at that door and saw the outside world, my freedom was a few short steps away. I saw a small pavement, beyond that, thick trees, and beyond that, darkness. I felt my throat tighten as I stared at the escape that seemed to be calling me softly, seductively.

Standing there in fear and confusion, as to what decision I should make, wondering if I should take the chance, a sound interrupted my thoughts. It was a manly grunt, which was followed by the sound of footsteps. I gazed at the door and looked upon a figure that was walking towards the house. His head was bent down, like he was watching where he placed his steps. From what I could tell he was very thin and somewhat old.

I immediately realized that he was not my kidnapper, for his posture and stature was nothing like his. This man, whoever he was, seemed worn out and tired. His back was rounded and his steps were lazy, with each foot grazing the ground from his weariness. I also noticed that he held a shovel in his hand.

He walked through the front door and leaned the shovel on the wall. With a sigh, he began to remove his dirt coated gloves. I realized that if that man was here, along with that old woman, there may be more people who worked in this house. People who may be willing to help me.

The man, upon removing his gloves reached out and grasped the side of the door, closing my the way to my freedom. With a sudden burst of energy I opened the bedroom door completely and ran towards him. He was shocked and frightened to see me, but I gave him no heed. I grabbed the front door with my own hands and pulled it open further.

It happened quickly and the man had no time to react. The door slipped from his fingers and banged as it hit the opposite wall from the force that I gave it. No hesitation blanked my thoughts and my legs began to move.

I ran out of the door and into the trees. My speed was unimaginable, and my legs and arms pumped in coordination with one another. I do not doubt that it was probably the fastest that I ever ran in my life, for I was inspired but a loud voice that echoed throughout my body.

It was my fathers voice and he was cheering me on. All I could hear was his voice, and it inspired me to run without any rest. He only said one word, but it was a word that meant so many things at that moment.

Run...run...run...run...run...


	5. No Matter How Hopeless

I am a very athletic person. When I was in high school I joined the swim team. Mostly because my mother was a swimmer in her youth, and entirely because my father urged me to do so. I was alright at the sport, not gifted or anything like that, but because I wanted to make my father proud, I worked out every single day. Push ups, crunches, aerobics, morning runs, endless laps around the pool, yoga, pilates, and occasionally weight training.

So when I began to run, not to sound conceited, I was like a bullet.

I dodged trees with great ease, I maneuvered through branches by ducking, and missed the random dead tree trunk on the ground by leaping or sprinting quickly around it. The weather was, however, atrociously cold. It was winter after all. The frigid air bit my skin when I first left the warmth of the house, but after a few seconds it became comforting. The coldness woke me up, and awakened my senses.

All those hours of exercising paid off. I breathed evenly through both my mouth and my nose, as my feet quickly, by barely touching the ground, brought me farther and farther away from my imprisonment, and closer to my freedom.

Run...run...run...

I was doing it! I could feel my body telling me that somehow I was more safe. Minutes passed of my endless sprint, and soon my stride slowed, but only slightly.

Except for the crunching sound of dead leaves beneath my feet, the forest was very silent. Also it was not so dark as I first assumed. When I looked out from my bedroom window, the light from the house accentuated the darkness, but when I was actually in the middle of the dense forest, I realized that the sky gave me all the light that I could possibly need. The dark blanket overhead was littered with dozens of stars, and an amazing half moon.

Although all of my concentration was forced on running, I couldn't help but think of where I might have been. As far as I could tell, I was somewhere far from any city if the stars were so easily visible. This fact was not helpful to my situation. I had to pray that there was a house, or a town where I could be saved.

I began to imagine my rescue with a full feeling of hopefulness. I saw in my mind's eye, a road come into view and a police car would be pulled over. I would run frantically and bang on the car window. The cop would then listen to my terrifying tale, and placing me safely in the car, we would drive away from this retched place.

That dream only fueled my determination and I ran harder. I could feel my muscles starting to wane, for I must have been pushing onward for at the most, ten minutes. I traveled such a great distance, but I did not know if I was going the right way. Maybe the quicker way to safety was actually in the opposite direction!

I could not think that way, I tried to encourage myself, and stated factually in my mind; anywhere far from his home is fine by me.

As I jogged on through the thicket an echo from somewhere in the woods reached my ears. It sounded like a roar...

No, not like a roar, more like a car. A car whose engine was guttering sounds that vibrated through the whole forest.

Run...run...run!

My pace quickened to a full out sprint once again. I moved just as fast as when I first began, like my energy was suddenly restored. My muscles were starting to scream in pain, and my legs felt like jelly.

I didn't know which direction to run. The sound continued to climb and it spread all throughout the forest. The echo passed through the trees and jammed, like knives, into my ears. Fear pulled my stomach down to my legs.

I knew in my heart that it was him. It was Erik Dessler, my kidnapper, my...husband.

Run, dammit, run!

The car wherever it was, was so near, but I couldn't see it anywhere. Yet the sound mounted and mounted. I saw beyond some of the trees a bit of a clearing and pushed forward until I was almost there. I figured in that treeless area I could run easier without having to maneuver throughout all of the obstacles that obstructed my path.

Reaching that clearing I veered my running through the path. I looked at the ground ahead of me and slowed down. I panted loudly and plopped my feet on the ground slower, till I was not running at all. Instead I stood still staring at what laid before me.

This wasn't a clearing, it was a dirt road.

Oh no, I thought.

This was not what I was expecting. I fell right into his path. I only stood there a moment, but cars can travel fast in any small amount of time. Headlights finally beamed through the trees as a car skidded around a corner and appeared in front of me in the blink of an eye.

Gasping I threw my body into a bush by the side of the road. The car came in inches of hitting me and this was a fact that the driver noticed to, because the car screeched to a halt. I laid on top of that bush, my body compressing into its pointy sticks that unmercifully dug into my bare arms and shoulders. The car sat ahead of me, it's engine humming, breaking the silence of the forest. With a moan of pain I pushed myself up and was revealed when I no longer felt any pressure.

My body felt so weak; after the small pause of rest, if you call stuck in the middle of a bush rest, my legs reminded my mind of how desperately they needed to relax, and the pain in my muscles intensified. As I staggered away from the car and into the woods, my steps were sloppy, but I didn't care, I had to keep trying no matter how tired I was.

My breath came out in audible big gulps of air, but my chest felt so compressed down, like it was empty. I kept walking though, no matter how pathetic I looked. I could not stop, I just couldn't.

I didn't hear the car door open, or hear his footsteps approach. He snuck up on me, as I would learn he could do very easily, and snaked his arms around me. His left hand went to my stomach, and pushed me in a swift movement so that my back was against his chest. Within his right hand was a cloth, which he held tightly against the lower half of my face. I was forced to breath through it because it covered my mouth and nose.

The overpowering stench, and taste, that resembled something like a strong medicine, flooded into my throat, making me gag. I screamed, but it was muffled from the cloth, and my exhaustion lead me to give into his drug. Even though I struggled, I felt myself drift away.

I fell into his arms, and thought in the split moment that the action was happening, that I was going to feel my skin crawl. But instead, I was surprised when I felt a wonderful warmth spread throughout my body.

I must have been colder then I thought, for his body heat to warm me so quickly, or maybe...maybe it was something else.


	6. I Peer Through Windows

I failed again. The disappointment and anger towards myself almost equated the amount of animosity I felt for my kidnapper. My stomach ached with sharp, powerful pains that awoke me sometime in the night. Like deja vu, I was back in my large, comfortable bed, yet again, and as if on instinct, I looked at the corner where he sat last time we encountered one another in this room. I gave a sigh of relief when I realized that I was alone. I placed my hands on my stomach lightly, yet not enough to cause any pressure. The pain was like a stomach virus, but I then remembered that I have not eaten in days.

What should I do? I thought dubiously. My hunger begged me to venture out for food, but I knew that somewhere beyond that bedroom door, he was lurking, like a predator waiting for the kill. Was food really worth running into him again? My stomach felt so empty, and I felt so weak.

The persistent pain clashed on inside me, and finally I pushed myself up to a seated position. I groaned as I moved to stand; and my body swayed from side to side as a wave of dizziness hit me. As I walked forward I grasped the corner of the bed that lead up to the canopy. Leaning on it, I held my stomach, by slipping my hand into the hem of my sweat pants, so to relieve some of the pain.

I walked to the bedroom door and stood there for a moment. I did not want to go out; I wished that I could just wake up to my alarm clock, in my real bedroom, and get away from this nightmare.

My stomach whined loudly in protest, informing me that this was no dream. It was all real, terribly real. Placing my hand on the doorknob, which I started to turn, I suddenly heard a voice from the hallway.

"Marie," It was his voice and a distinct chill ran down my spine in fear. "Come here, please."

I pushed my ear against the door, and held my breath. The sound of soft footsteps came towards my room.

"Yes master?" She asked. I realized that it was the mysterious woman from earlier, by the way she meekly answered him.

"Has she awakened yet?"

"When I checked on her this morning she was still asleep, but she has not eaten, so it should not be long."She informed him.

There was silence for a moment, until a shuddering breath sounded, like anger was being forced out.

"Did I not tell you to check on her condition every hour?" His voice was low, and rumbling. My eyes widened at hearing a kind of rage itched into his words, that I never heard before.

"Yes master-and, and I have been checking on her every hour. I-I just meant that this morning-"She stuttered.

"Spare me your excuses." He interrupted, speaking very quickly. "From now on you will check on her every half an hour, and report to me on her current state."

"I-I understand master."

"Are you sure?" His tone was arrogant. "Do you need me to repeat myself so that maybe this time you will actually follow my orders?"

"No, I understand." She sounded so frightened. I could only imagine the look in his eyes as he spoke such words to her.

His breathing was loud, so loud that I could hear it through the door. I bit my lip as I listened to the sound of his fit of rage die down. Finally he let out a long sigh, that was filled with agitation.

"How is the old man?" He suddenly asked.

"Other than his ear, he's fine." What? I thought. Who were they speaking about?

"Good," he concluded. "Since we are here, why don't you commit your duties now."

"Yes, master," she said. "I will go get the medical supplies."

I could hear her shuffle away. That poor woman, I thought, moving my head away from the door. Who did he think he was speaking to her in that way? Slowly I looked back to my bed.

I could not go out now. Not when he was right in the hallway...wait he was in the hallway! What if he came in while I was standing by the door, he would clearly understand that I was listening to his conversation.

I quickly stepped across the floor to my bed, but just as I was about to quietly get into the covers, the floorboard beneath my feet creaked. If it was any other time or place, that sound would have been nonconsequential, but at that moment, it was as someone had screamed out loud.

Immediately the door opened. I looked behind me rapidly, and felt my skin quiver at the frightening sight of him. He stood halfway into my room, with his hand still grasping the handle. His eyes gazed at me with such intensity, that I did not move, with my back faced to him, and my head turned to lock on with his naked eyes.

He stared at me for a moment, like he was taking in the sight of me. I stared back at him, doing the exact same thing. I just could not stop a feeling of shock every time I saw that black, faceless mask. Finally, he moved his hand back down to his side and stepped fully into the room. In a soft voice he said, "Hello Christine."

My head snapped back to its rightful place, and I looked at the bed, instead of him. That was the first time he ever said my name. He made it sound so exotic and sensual when it accompanied his voice. But just as pleasant it was to hear my name spoken so, it made me just as disgusted to know that it came from his lips.

We stood there motionless for some time.

"I am pleased to know that you are finally awake now." His tone was so plain, and business like. Why was he saying those things anyway? Was he trying to make pleasantries with me?

"I'm hungry," I stated. I had no intention of having any conversation with this man.

"That is understandable." I could hear him walking to the opposite side of the room, and where I presumed to be the windows.

"You must be famished after your actions the other night. Such active exercise can exhaust the body, and make it malnourished."

I finally turned to look at him. I gave the biggest glare I could muster, for it was plain to see that he was mocking my attempt to escape.

"Whatever," I said stiffly. "Are you going to feed me or not."

"No, I will, I will." He walked around the bed, so that he stood directly across from me. As he walked his head looked down to the ground, not to place his steps, but as if he was thinking of the next words to say. With his hands clasped tightly behind his back he said, "Please do not think me a person who will be so cruel as to starve you."

My mind screamed in fury. All I could think, was how this man was so hypocritical to think that he was not cruel, after all that he had done to my family. I wanted to shout, scream and rip my hair to let him know the amount of contempt I felt for him.

So I lamely stated. "Can I eat then?"

He continued to stare. Analyzing me with his incredible eyes; I could not tell if he was looking at me physically, or if he was trying to read my thoughts. However, whichever way his mind was thinking, he made me extremely uncomfortable under such a gaze. Especially since it came from him.

"Yes," he said. His voice grew a little louder, and took on an authoritive tone. "But first we must discuss something."

He walked back around the bed, until he stood right before me. I stepped back, fully aware of our close proximity. I could hear his leather gloves squeaking, as he clenched his fists. Oh god, what was he going to do?

"You must realize that your actions have consequences," He began. "When you break the rules, and make idiotic decisions, the people around you will be hurt."

"...What do you mean," I said with a shaking feeling spreading through my body.

He answered me immediately after I breathed the last word. "I mean exactly what I stated before. Your actions hold consequences on yourself, and others."

I looked deeply into the black abyss that was his face, trying to understand exactly what he was saying to me. Could he be hinting at something about my father, but the contract said that I only had to marry him, and my father would be safe. Surely an act of defiance can make the contract voided.

I thought strongly through the series of people who he may have been alluding to. Wait...I thought...suddenly a horrible idea popped into my head. But no, it couldn't be.

"Who was the old man?" I said urgently. His eyes shifted between my own orbs, as he looked at me questioningly. "The man with the ear. Is he the one that left the door open when I escaped. Is he the one? Is that the old man that you said, was alright except for his ear. Who...was...that.."

My voice drifted away. I suddenly realized my mistake; like the fool that I was, I just told him that I listened in on his conversation. He seemed to understand the minuted I mentioned the old man, yet he let me talk on until I realized my stupidity for myself.

"I knew I heard something at the door earlier." He took a step closer. "Why you little viper. I never thought you to be so rude."

I stepped back, yet again. "Why would you listen to another's conversation when it has absolutely nothing to do with you?"

"B-but it did have to do with me." I stammered.

"Perhaps, but where you actually involved?" His head lowered, ever so slightly, but his eyes never left my own.

"...no.." I stepped back again. "You didn't answer my question though."

His head snapped back up. "Why should I do such a thing? You do not deserve an answer after all of the conniving actions you have taken, of late."

"Did you hurt that old man?" I asked. I was afraid to say such a thing, to make him any more furious, but I had to know.

He paused. The silence made me hold my breath. He spoke so rapidly and answered each of my statements with his own reply, so quickly, and intelligently, that his silence made me fear the worst. It was so unnerving to stand there, near him. He just seemed so unreal, like none of this was really happening. This man in a mask, who said he loved me, frightened me so much.

I was so young, so filled with fear for my father, that I never took into consideration my own being. This man made it sound as if he knew everything about me, and he acted so strangely around me.

His voice was always continuingly shifting between emotions, that I had no clue as to what he was really feeling.

He stepped closer to me, and I took another step back. I felt the edge of the night stand beside my bed, lightly press into my thigh. I felt like a cornered animal.

I do not know why I said it again, I couldn't control myself. "Did you hurt that old man."

I gulped loudly. Looking into his eyes I tried to will him to speak. Did he ever blink? It did not appear so. He just stared and stared and stared, for a long time. His eye's glistened with some kind of emotion that I could not place.

"Tell me," I whispered. I never took my eyes away from his, but I could see his hands slowly lower down to his sides.

"Yes, Christine." He spoke slowly. "Yes, I did hurt him."

He stepped closer. And now he stood right before me. My head was tilted up to meet his eyes. His tall body strangely towering over me.

"I hurt him..." Was there a look of pain in his eyes? "Because of his idiotic mistake."

My eyes began to fill with tears, as I thought of all the terrible possibilities of what might have been done to that old man, because of me.

"Because his mistake," His body leaned closer, making his chest almost come in contact with my own. "Almost made me loose you."


	7. I'll Do Nicely Without You

Erik is a very peculiar man. It took me months to fully understand the complexity of his personality. He was the kind of person who finds difficulty in coming close to others, and yet when he does try to do so; when he can't control himself, and allows others to be near him, he tends to act in the extreme.

But I was only seventeen. I just starting to know this man. He stood so close to me, for such a long time. By the way that he looked into my eyes, I felt like he was trying to gather some strength, as if he wanted to say something else. I may have been mistaken though. What else was there really to say? He already confessed his love for me, or at least said those words. There was no way for me to really know if he even truly meant what he said.

It wasn't until we both heard footsteps approaching the room that he moved. His head tilted to the side, like an animal listening closely to far off sounds, and walked hastily out of the room. Leaving me frozen in shock at what had transpired.

The old woman, who I then knew to be Marie, stood in the doorway, looking at me with a puzzled expression. In her hand she held a medical kit, as she glanced back from me to the hallway, where my kidnapper stormed through.

I was just as confused as she was, but I doubted that she felt the fear that, at the moment, held me paralyzed. She looked back at me, and pressed her lips together with a look of sorrow in her eyes. I didn't want her pity, but it was nice to know that someone understood, to some degree, how terrified I felt.

She walked closer to me, and placed the kit on my bed. "I'll get you something to eat."

Closing the door behind her, as she walked out, I heard the distinct click of the door being locked. I knew now that I was being kept in a prison, not a bedroom.

Weeks passed, and Erik never reappeared. I was strictly kept in the vicinity of my bedroom, as a way of punishment. At first I didn't know how long I would be able to take it, but I found the unending time, with no responsibility to do anything, perfect for thinking through all of my confusing feelings.

I did however, become very depressed. I slept most of the day, and rarely left the bed. In the first days of my containment, Marie would only come into my room to leave a tray of food; but as the days turned into weeks, I realized that she came much more often then usual. Not just to bring food, but to keep me company. She would pretend like she only came in to clean the room, by dusting the furniture, but I knew that she wanted to become friends.

I was so grateful for that. I would lie under the covers while she bustled around the area, fixing things up, the way she saw fit. Eventually, each time she would start to make small talk, and then our conversations would become more intimate; we became close, very quickly. I wondered if she ever had any time to be with others, for she had so many responsibilities around the house.

She did tell me what happened to the old man Erik had injured, whose name she informed me, was Jonathan.

She said that when I banged open the my bedroom door, the entire house echoed with the noise. Erik ran to the front of the house to find Jonathan flabbergasted, and confused as to what just happened. It was plain to see that Jonathan was there when I ran away, yet he did nothing. With a hard fist, Erik hit the man across the face, directly on his ear. The blow was so powerful that his eardrum was shattered, making that ear deaf.

When she told me, I felt such a horrid fear grip my stomach.

"It's not his fault Christine," Marie said, placing her hand on my own. "He...he's a good man. He just does things, without thinking them through."

"Thinking them through? Marie he blatantly struck a man to the ground." My voice shaking with rage.

She sighed, not knowing how to respond.

I wanted to meet Jonathan. I wanted to have the opportunity to tell him how sorry I was, for it was my fault. Going to sleep, every night I would try to picture his face in my head, but it was only a fleeting image. He could only hear out of one ear, because of me, there was no way he would forgive such a thing.

I asked Marie if she could arrange a short meeting between us, so that I could apologize. But she refused immediately, and her decision did not waver, in the least.

"He'll find out Christine." Marie said, shaking her head.

"Who Erik? No he won't, we just have to be careful." I tried to encourage her.

She looked deeply into my eyes, her face completely serious. "You don't realize how intelligent, and powerful he is. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you will let yourself be safe. If you don't give in to what he wants, well..." She pursed her lips tightly.

"Marie I don't care what he wants," I said. "I, will, get out of here."

She picked up her supplies and walked to the door. "Then...you'll have to find out the hard way."


	8. Deep In December

In my containment, I noticed something very strange was happening. At night, I would always have this feeling. A feeling of something amiss, or off balance. First, I thought that it was just my entire personal stature on all of the terrible components of my life. But as the days progressed, and my sleep became lighter and lighter, because I rested all the time, that strange sense became more acute.

My curiosity was tickled, and although I had little stamina to really do anything, I wanted to investigate this feeling. It was one particular night that I realized what was the cause of my uneasiness at night.

It was one afternoon, when Marie brought dinner, slightly earlier then usual. She complained to me about some problems she was having with the cook.

"The woman has no idea how to make a proper beef stew," She said, shaking her head.

I gave her a small smile, as I listened to her chat away about every minuscule dilemma she had faced, dealing with the house, in the last couple of days. As she left though she suddenly changed the point of the conversation completely.

"I know your feeling very blue dear, but maybe you should try to move about the room. You know, find some little hobby while your cooped up in here." She smiled warmly.

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. There really is nothing to do, besides I'm...I'm not in the mood."

"You haven't been in a good mood for quite some time now!" She starting to sound like my father, I thought. My heart squeezed in pain at the sudden realization. "Why don't you take a nice hot shower."

"I took a shower yesterday." I answered.

"No, no. How about you take a bath?" I lowered my eyes to my lap, considering the idea. "It would be nice and relaxing, and it would make you feel a lot better."

I stared at my lap, feeling very uncertain about everything around me. Was this reality? I couldn't even tell anymore. Yes, maybe a hot bath would wake me up; get me out of this unending limbo.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Sure."

"Good. Trust me, it'll do you wonders." With a big smile she closed the door, locking it behind her.

I threw the covers over myself completely, and laid in a fetal position. My knees were pulled up to my chin, and my arms cradled my legs. Oh, I didn't feel like moving. I just felt so uncomfortable in my own skin, so entirely lost. Every dream, and aspiration that I ever hoped for, is gone. What is the point of anything now? I couldn't go to college. I couldn't get a job. I couldn't meet new people. I couldn't be a tax payer, and function like every other person in society. Most of all, I couldn't be with my father.

I missed him so much. I had to get back to him, I had to get out of this place.

First things first. I would take a bath, wake up out of this pathetic phase of depression, and formulate a plan to gain back my freedom. With a full burst of determination, I tugged the covers off of my body, and stood.

I felt a small wave of dizziness hit me, for I moved too quickly. Yet I staggered into the bathroom, refusing to give into my want to climb back into bed.

I closed and locked the bathroom door.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, I turned on the faucets. I slowly undid the buttons on my shirt, as I watched the water slowly fill up. I grasped the hem, at my wrist, and tugged my arm out of the sleeve, my movements very calculated and slow. I was so tired...no, not tired physically, just emotionally.

I stripped down to my underwear, and through half opened eyes, I lazily watched the steam rise from the bathtub. As I waited for the tub to be filled, I gazed around the room. Like all the other rooms I saw, it was beautiful. The bathtub, toilet, sink and shower, was all made of a sparkling, white, porcelain. On the walls, was a beautiful red wallpaper, that was covered with small golden flowers. Beside the sink, was a small, thin mahogany table, which held lotions, soaps, and perfumes of all kinds. Another nice touch was a number of candles that laid on the sink, table, toilet and the edges of the bathtub. It really was a spectacular room.

The thing I liked best however, was the lock on the door. A lock that I had control over, not my kidnapper.

I turned the knobs till water no longer leaked through, and removing the rest of my clothing, climbed into the bathtub. The water was very hot, so I eased my body in very slowly. I watched my pale skin turn pink, as I finally laid in the tub. With a deep breath I submerged my head underneath the water.

Marie was right, this was relaxing. I felt my limbs loosen, and my muscles unclench themselves from some kind tension they burdened on themselves. I lifted my head and breath deeply. This locked room, gave me a feeling of safety I have not felt in weeks.

The minutes flowed on, and as I listened to my breathing echo around the walls, my eyelids slowly began to lower. It wouldn't be so bad if I just took a short nap, would it? The water was so terrific and the room was safe, I wanted to rest in this wonderful feeling. So I gave into my body's wishes and propped my head along the side of the tub, falling asleep.

I awoke, later on. The water was no longer hot, or even warm, instead it was freezing cold. My body was shacking and shivering, and my skin looked paler then usual. The untouched hair, on the top of my head was dry, while the ends of each of my locks floated in the water around my neck. I slowly raised my vibrating arm, and rubbed my numbed eyelids.

How long have I been in here? My bones were completely chilled, and my joints were locked in the position they were in when I first fell asleep. I breathed out, and in, slowly; the air shuttering unmercifully. With all of my muscles twitching, I grasped the side of the bathtub, and willed my body to move.

My feet pushed, and my arms pulled. A moment later, I was on the bathroom floor; naked, and shivering. Water dripped from my skin, and the ends of my damp hair, while the coldness stuck to my body. I looked over to the towel hanging on the wall. Come on Christine, I thought. Just get up and grab the towel, just get up and grab the towel, just get up and grab the towel...

I repeated that thought in my head, but I felt too weak, and cold to move in the slightest.

I tried to still my shacking body, by slowly rubbing my hands over my skin. It hurt to move, for my bones screamed out in pain. But slowly, I felt my energy reemerge, and my quivering muscles began to relax.

Finally I sat up and reached out for the towel. Rubbing it harshly onto my body, I began to feel much better. Here is when the already strange night, became unbelievable.

As I awakened my body, I heard the loud click of the lock on the bedroom door. I stopped moving and held my breath, looking with wide eyes to the bathroom door. I could hear the bedroom door open, by the small squeak it made. Then the sound of soft, slow footsteps reverberated through the room. One could say they were even cautious.

They seemed to be approaching the bed, with complete ease, even if the light was switched off. I waited, listening, my heart pounding in my ears. The footsteps stopped, right where it sounded the bed might be. The bathroom and bedroom echoed in silence.

Suddenly a soft voice broke the revere. "Oh, no."

My eyes widened even further. It was Erik's voice.

I heard him run quickly out of my room, his feet pounding on the ground, no longer caring if he awoken anyone. His footsteps ran up and down the length of the hallway, moving all around the room. I grasped the towel tightly around my body.

As he moved around the first floor, like a wild animal, I sat on the floor, half naked, and frightened out of my wits. I should have reacted, and grabbed the clothing I discarded on the floor earlier, but each time my mind would begin to conjure up some thought, I would hear something crash on the floor, or his body storming throughout the house.

I heard shouts far off, on the opposite side of the house. No doubt all of the servants were now awake, and wondering what was happening. None of them were as scared as I was at the moment, though.

Erik's footsteps, suddenly approached the room again. He halted at the doorway, possible because he was looking around the room, figuring where I might have hidden myself. I looked intensely at the door, trying to see through it somehow.

Suddenly the footsteps hastily approached the bathroom door.

I watched in horror, as the doorknob began to turn, in jerking movements from side to side. The door, then began to bang forward, and backwards, but it did not open, because of the lock.

I could have gotten up and opened the door, but he was hysterical, and the sound of him banging on the door with his hard fists, froze me in fear. More so then the ice cold water I was submerged in earlier.

"Christine!" He screamed. "Christine!"

Oh, God. I covered my mouth with my right hand, and held my towel up in one tight fist with my left. My eyes flooded in tears, I was so afraid. He continued to bang, each one louder then the one before it, screaming my name with so much emotion in his voice.

It wasn't anger though. His voice was filled with something else...was it fear? I couldn't tell. All of this was happening so fast, that my mind, and body could not react quick enough.

The sound of fists banging on the door halted, and a larger sound blared through, into the bathroom. He was throwing his body onto the door. He was going to burst through!

I stood up, quickly and staggered back. My right hand that covered my mouth, flared out behind me, as I reached for the back wall, all the while, never moving my tear filled eyes away from the bathroom door. I pressed my back against the wall. My knees were bent, as I also placed my wide right hand against the wall. My body shivered in fear, as I listened to Erik, scream my name, and watched the door jerk forward every time his body was thrown on it.

"Christine!" Erik bellowed. "No!"

The lock burst out, and the door swung out violently. Erik's body fell into the room, his arms wildly held out in front of him to balance himself. He did not actually hit the ground, as his golden eyes locked on with mine.

He breathed so heavily that his entire body moved with his gasps. His wide eyes, looked upon me with shock clearly evident within them. He slowly stood upright, while his body continued to contract and release from the amount of air he took in.

There we stood, once again in silence. Our appearances, no doubt strange to an unbeknownst eye. Him, breathing deeply, his black mask, and his penetrating eyes, that very soon began to appear emotionless, and myself.

I, was barely standing; using the bathroom wall to support my body up, with just my left fist holding a towel against my still dripping, cold, damp body.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't will my body to move, or force my voice to make any sound. I was so shocked, and as always, so terrified of this man, whom I had to call, husband.

Before Erik completely regained his composure in a small voice, that was barely above a whisper, he said, "Thank god."


	9. As The Days Go By

It was the first time Erik ever saw me in such a manner. Well, clad in only a small towel should be readily described as something much more complex then being described as a "Manner". Time passed on and neither of us moved. We both were evidently trying to gain back some of our wits, especially since we were in the presence of one another. It was hard to do so though.

The entire ordeal was so indescribable for both of us, and I personally wanted nothing more then to just climb into my bed and sleep. While somewhere in the back of my mind I was praying that this was all a dream. Just some horrible nightmare that plagues me unendlessly at night, but that I would soon awaken from.

I watched Erik's form, slowly turn into the opposing figure he is, instead of the weak one he was, only moments ago. His breathing calmed, his back became rigid and straight, and his height seemed to grow before my very eyes, as he towered over my cowering body. He had a strange look in his eyes while he stared at me so intensely.

It was not shock, but something else. More like he was filled with anxiety of some kind. I was still trying to bring myself out of my stupor, and to ready my mind and body for whatever he was going to commit. So to help my concentration I ignored Erik's opposing presence and closed my eyes.

Come on, breath, I thought, trying to still my lungs down to normalcy. Your fine, your safe. Just breath. Calm down.

I felt it begin to work, as my body listened to my thoughts. Slowly I was gaining back my senses. Standing up fully, I pushed myself off of the bathroom wall. My right hand joined my left and held the towel up with much more carefulness then before.

My head was facing the floor as I slightly opened my eyes. Looking at my bare feet and his polished back shoes, upon the pure white tiles, I tried to sort out my thoughts. What was he going to do or say? I never realized how emotionally driven this man was, but I did notice, even in that uncomfortable event, that he seemed to only act that way when dealing with me. But I hardly knew him, and I couldn't completely form an opinion on him that was anything positive. After all that he had done to me and my family, how could I think highly of him.

I sincerely thought that there was no way I could ever come to love him.

I moved my eyes up from his shoes, along the view of his long legs, to his chest, and finally to his black mask. I was about to shift my eyes to meet his own, when I was surprised to see that he was not staring at my face, as he usually does. His eyes roamed up and down my body, both them wide, and filled with the anxiety that I saw early within them.

I shifted my eyes between both of his and furrowed my brows in confusion. He didn't look like he was some predator, or perverted man, he looked...scared. That is the only word that popped into my head that made any sense as I stared at him. He look positively frightened of me, well, more like my body.

I must look hideous to him. Not that I would care, or maybe I did. No I don't! I screamed in my head. With a full feeling of verbrato and courage I walked around him and out of the broken door. Quickly I jumped into my bed and pulled the covers over my damp body. I felt the pillow begin to become moist as it absorbed the water from my wet hair.

A safe feeling enveloped my body, while warmth began to creep back into my skin. I curled my toes and fingers trying to aid my quivering skin to cease, and sucked on my bottom lip furiously in perpetual anticipation. As I slowly moved my body to make myself comfortable I looked over to the bathroom door.

The light casted out from the bathroom laid out on the floor beside my bed. Stretching far, almost to the other end of my room; for the darkness in my bedroom made that brightness seem infamous. I looked feverishly at the floor, and at that light, but mostly at the shadow directly in the middle. Erik's figure stood perpendicular to me, as if his shadow was real, for it faced me. I could clearly see the outline of his masked face, which flowed down to his tall body, that was elongated within the light.

Shadows tend to do that; make the figure it belongs to much bigger then it actually is. Well even if that is a fact I have always know my entire life, at that moment, when I stared at his shadow, I felt that bit of information escape out of my head. Fear draped my soul as I looked at his shadow.  
It was the first time that I would watch Erik, without his knowledge, just like he had been doing to me countless times. I sat up in my bed and held my breath. Looking at his figure, I did not care if my bare back was no longer covered, as I leaned forward.

He did not move for the longest time, it looked like he was staring at the bath tub, but I could not tell for sure. What was he thinking? He always seemed so deep in thought, every time he remained silent, and his eyes stared out. It proved either one of two things, he was a madman, or a genius.

The silence in the room, held me still. I watched Erik's arm raise from his side, his fingers wide and spread out. In a dramatic movement that was so calculated and slow, he placed his spread hand upon his chest, right where his heart would be. His head bent down, as if he was looking at his hand.

I saw the lump of darkness in his shadow, that was his hand, flux out. It seemed that he was curling his fingers, grabbing the fabric on his shirt; almost as if, he was clutching his heart.

Holding his hand steady, Erik's head tilted up. All the way, until his neck was arched fully, and his face gazed perfectly at the roof. What could he possibly be thinking? I never saw anyone act in such a way, and I had no idea what to make of it.

Not caring if I alerted him, I flopped back down on the bed. I didn't want to think about these things anymore. This was too much, in such short time. I felt so confused and scared. Staring up at the canopy above me, I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

"I just want to go home," I whispered.

"You are home Christine," Erik suddenly answered.

I looked over to the bathroom door. There Erik stood, a lone figure in black. The only light from the bathroom laid out in back of him, which only accentuated that darkness. He was the darkness himself, like a monster.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I said quietly, my voice rippling with sadness.

He stepped all the way to the side of the bed. I looked directly up to his shining eyes that seemed to pierce out, amongst all of the blackness. Erik looked deeply at me. His eyes looking upon everything from my bare shoulders, collarbone, neck, arms, and skin that was not covered my the sheets, to my hair which was spread out around my head, and finally to my pale, tired face.

"Can't you see that I don't want to be here?" My voice was so weak, probably effected by the cold bath. "If you love me, like you said you do, you would let me go."

The mask was so daunting, so devoided of emotion. His eyes were unreadable. I hoped with every inch of my body that he was reconsidering, but a terrible doubt overpowered that completely.

"Just..."A soft sob escaped from my mouth. "Let me go."

His eyes followed a tear that trickled down my cheek, and then snapped back to my watery orbs.

"Christine," He said gently. His wonderful voice made me mute. "You plague my thoughts day and night."

I looked back and forth between both of his eyes, my breath hitched in my throat. My heart squeezed with a feeling of shock that I cannot define.

"Letting you go is impossible." He said softly. "You force me to keep you."

With that last word he spun around and walked out of the room. Leaving me tearful, cold, and alone.


	10. It Seemed To Be Right

Things changed for the worst after that night. The hours seemed endless for me, but somehow days passed quickly. It was such a strange period. I never went through anything so dramatic as that time before. Also, Marie was no longer allowed to speak to me. I could see it in her eyes, every time she came in the room that she wanted desperately to talk, mirroring my own wishes.

My meals changed also. Well, not the actual food. Instead, I was refused a knife and fork, and was reduced to having all of my meals with a spoon. My meat was already cut for me in small pieces, like I was some insolent child.

The first time the tray of food came accompanied by a lone spoon, a letter was neatly slid underneath the corner of the plate. It simply said: _For your protection._

_  
_ My protection? I did not even bother trying to understand what the meaning behind that was.  
I hoped that the spoon was going to be the only a temporary problem; however ridiculous I thought it to be, I figured that I could become use to it. But that was only the beginning. My room became a child safe, suicidally devoided area. All of the pointy objects were removed. The bathroom was basically reconstructed, and the lock was not reinstalled. Plus, every hour Marie would have to look into the room to make sure I was fine.

Within me, I felt an intensely growing heated emotion of rage towards Erik, and his idea of what was best for me. There was only one man who knew such a thing, and that man was my father.

Besides, I knew things were bad, but I was not a coward- I was not going to take the easy way out, by taking my life. Most importantly, I knew that my father was waiting for me, wherever he was. I could not give up, I had to fight, and somehow get back into my father's arms.

It was once again late at night that the next incident took place. Marie came in one last time, to check on me, before she went to bed. I was sitting at my dressing table, combing my hair in long, bored strokes. I looked over to the bedroom door, and saw her face peak in through, between the door and the frame.

The poor woman look exhausted. No doubt she was longing for her bed, and her much needed rest. I gave her a soft smile, which she faintly returned. With half lidded eyes, she closed the door.

I listened as her footsteps echoed down the hallway. Wait, I thought. Something was amiss. I froze my hand in mid air, with the brush still in my hair. Looking at the door, and slowing my breathing, I wondered why I felt confused.

Suddenly, realization dawned on me, and I gasped loudly. She didn't lock the door! No, I thought. She must have. I'm just imaging things.

Nonetheless, I gently placed the brush on the dressing table. Pushing the stool back, I slowly walked to the door. My skin was shaking and trembling along my arms, making the small hairs stand on end.

Gingerly I placed my hand upon the doorknob. I turned the handle, and felt my heart stop beating when the latch came undone, and the door opened. I pulled and pulled in a long motion till the doorknob silently touched the adjacent wall.

Holding my breath, I looked out at the dimly lit hallway. My eyes scanned the area. I gazed at everything from the door opposite from my room, to a grand staircase that lead up to a deep darkness, to the long hallway where Erik once dragged me forcefully down, and finally to the front door.

Silently my feet moved on their own will, and with the same anxiety as before erupting within me, I grabbed the front door's handle. I hesitated. Something within me was screaming out in protest. It was so simple; I could just open it and run away, hopefully this time to an actual destination.

No, I thought. He would expect me to go this way. I have to find another. Maybe I could find a car, or a bike...Yes, I thought frantically. He does have a car!

With a new plan set in my mind I turned my back away from the tempting escape root. I looked at the door, opposite from my room, and tried to catch my breath, and calm the beating of my heart. I am not going to lie; I was so frightened. All I could do was imagine all of the terrible possibilities of what might have been beyond that door; namely, my husband.

My hands curled into fists, and my nails dug deeply into my palms, causing a slight stinging pain. That sensation was good though, for it distracted me. My concentration was shifting from my fear to the feeling in my hands. I licked my lips and gulped fully, in an attempt to gather some kind of mental stability.

Finally I walked to it. Testing the handle, I opened the unlocked door and entered the room.

This is the first moment that I saw, what would come to be my favorite room in the house. It was a library. The most beautiful library I had ever seen. So grand and magnificent, that even to this day I cannot help but sigh every time I walk into it.

The room is very large in width and height. It's ceiling stretches far beyond the borders of the other rooms, as do the windows that line along its walls. Along every inch of the towering sides of the library are endless rows of books. Comfortably large chairs were scattered throughout the corners, and the center of the room, with small tables put randomly beside some of them. Hanging from the ceiling was a huge, crystal chandelier, which was, at that moment in time, not illuminated. The room was still encased with light though.

That light, instead, came from a gigantic fireplace, that was bright and burning with large flickering flames. I was so shocked by the overpowering image of the incredible room, that without removing my eyes from the amazing spectacle, I reached my hand out to the side, looking for something to lean on.

My hand finally touched an object, which I thought to be the doorframe. You can imagine my surprise when the thing I began to lean on, moved away. I stumbled slightly and looked to see a rolling ladder connected along the shelves on the wall, move gently away. The ladder made a soft, rolling, rumbling sound as it inched away from me.

I wrapped my arms around my waist. It would be best if I tried to not touch anything, I decided. Walking further into the room I found myself standing in the center of the library. My eyes looked up and down the walls, in sheer bliss.

For a brief moment, I was no longer sad, angry, or afraid. I was happy, I was ecstatic, and I felt a familiar, warm, safe feeling, what was it... My god, I thought. It feels like I'm home.

"What are you doing here?" A deep voice suddenly called out.

I turned swiftly around, towards the doorway, and gasped out loud in shock. There stood my husband, his entire stature blocking the entrance. He was clad in his usual black attire, with his chilling mask peering out at me. Why was it that even with an emotionless face, I could somehow sense that he was furious with me?

With my hands around my waist I grabbed the fabric of my shirt in fear. I stupidly opened and closed my mouth a few times, as I tried to think of something sufficient to say. Finally my voice broke out.

"N-nothing, I was just..."

"You were just acting foolishly," Erik said, interrupting me. Quickly he moved far into the room, by taking two large steps. His legs were so long, and his movements so swift and cat like, that he now only stood a short distance away from me.

"No, I wasn't." I shifted from one foot to the other. "I swear. I hated being cooped up in my bedroom, so... so..."

"So you decided to venture out?" He finished for me again.

"Yeah," I said quickly, and a little too enthusiastically. I thought he might have bought it, and would let this all go. "That was it! I just wanted to get out of that room, for just a moment. I didn't want to cause any trouble, or anything. It was only going to be for a second, then I was going to go right back in."

He did not reply back. I looked at how rigid his shoulders were, and how his straight arms ran down the side of his body. He looked tense, which only meant that my first feeling was correct. He was angry. Right when that thought ran through my mind, I heard a small pop. A sound that I then realized came from the knuckles of his enclosed fists.

"I'll just go back to my room now." I said meekly, and began to walk toward the sidewall, and the door. My eyes locked on the floor, and away from him.

"Did I ever give you permission to leave your room?" He said quickly, anger filling each syllable of every word.

I looked back at him. Although I only took a few steps away from the spot where he first saw me, he did not turn his face to meet my own; he looked at the direct spot where I once stood, only seconds before. For some reason, it frightened me even more. It was as if he was frozen in his rage.

I too was held still, as I took in his incredible figure. I waited fearfully for him to say something, but it was clear that he wanted me to answer him. The only problem was that I had no idea of how to reply to such a question, when it was obvious that he and I both knew the answer.

"Did I ever give you permission to leave your room?" He said again, this time slower.

How was I suppose to answer a rhetorical question, when I knew that if I said what he wanted me to say, it would probably only increase his anger.

"Um..." I murmured, shifting my eyes around the floor.

"Do not make me repeat myself again, Christine." I looked back at him, my eyes and mouth wide. It sounded as if he was warning me, or...threatening me.

"No," I said softly. "You didn't give me permission."

"Exactly." Erik said loudly. "You have not learned your lesson from the incident in the bathroom."

What? I screamed in my head.

Erik rapidly turned his body to face me. His piercing eyes darted out at me, and somehow knocked the wind out of my lungs. His voice rose to the highest level that I ever heard utter from his mouth, till that point in time.

"When, and only when I see you have learned to act appropriately as my wife, and as mistress of this house, will you be able to move about this house freely!"

It was like a hail of bullets was suddenly unleashed on me, as every word pierced into my ears unmercifully. The volume of his voice, the tone in which he spoke them, the way his eyes gazed at me in fury, all of them made my skin curl and my throat close. I could feel the tears forming behind my eyes, and felt my face slightly scrunching, as if in pain; obviously awaiting for the flow my tears to be unleashed.

My back went against the wall, each book pressing into my figure.

"Do you understand?" Erik yelled.

Dad, I cried in my heart. Daddy, I'm so scared right now. Please come save me. Please come get me.

I placed my hands on my face, and unwillingly curled my back. My head hanged forward pathetically. My hands did little to hide the desperation that was clearly displayed in my face, and body.  
I heard him approach me rapidly. Suddenly I felt his gloved hands clasp onto wrists.

"Christine! Do you understand?!" Erik screamed.

With a sharp jerk, he pulled my hands down, letting my tearful face appear for his viewing pleasure. I kept my head down, facing the floor. My arms, held up by his own, were suspended above me. The tears fell, and my chest expanded and contracted, as I gasped air in sorrowful sighs. My body moved with my breathing, making me look just as weak as I felt.

"Christine…" Erik began to shout my name, but died down to a whisper, as he watched my face lift up, to gaze directly at him.

My lips were parted, my eyes were watery, and my eyebrows, which refused to relax, were slightly crunched together.

Erik's eyes, which were once filled with a venomous fury, now began to loose that threatening look. His eyelids widened, and appeared almost doleful. He seemed even surprised to see the sad emotion written on my face. How can he be shocked to see me react this way? Did he expect me to not be frightened by his tirade?

"Yes," I said, sniffling. "I understand."

He stared at me with his wide, surprised eyes. His chest suddenly moved, and I could hear him inhale. Was he holding his breath?

He moved, shifting back, without moving his feet, or letting go of my hands.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please don't hurt me."

Erik's iron grip released, as if on cue. His eyes, now turning emotionless, continued to stare at me, all the while he stepped backwards, and away from me. I however, replaced my hands on my face, and began to wipe my wet cheeks. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I, once again, locked my eyes with Erik's.

He dipped his head, breaking the contact. His eyes starred down at my legs, almost as if he was too ashamed to meet my eyes. I watched his hands relax, and his entire form calm itself, and reform to normalcy.

Without looking up, he held out his hand; his fingers a little curled. He was gesturing for me to come closer, but I could not move.

"Come Christine," he said. "I will take you back to your room."

I clasped my hands in front of me, and hesitated. My mind and heart were nowhere near becoming more stable, so to speak, but I felt I had to obey. Finally, I slowly stepped forward, and immediately after the action was taken, Erik started to walk out the door. I followed, my head glaring at the floor.

Leaving the room I walked the short distance to my open doorway. Pausing before I actually enter the room, I tried to become strong mentally, for I hated the fact that I was crying like a little child. I pictured my fathers face in my head, but that did little to still the thumping of my heart. I looked up, hoping that I could just run into my bed, but Erik was nowhere within the room. Turning back to the hallway, I found him standing next to the front door. He faced away from me, his gaze fixed on the door.

Slowly Erik walked closer to it, and placed his hand on the handle. I watched him puzzled, and confused as to what he was doing. Why was he suddenly so interested by the front door? Did he know that I was very near escaping through it earlier?

Squeezing my hands, I watched as Erik turned the knob, and barely open the door. Transfixed, I was confounded by what was taking place. Erik's head was caste downward, and tilted to the side. His eyes, I suppose, were looking at the handle.

He closed the door, his body unmoving. Nervously I nibbled my lips, trying to desperately figure out what he was thinking.

What's wrong with him, I thought. Is he angry again?

I stepped back, fully ready to close the door and pretend that I did not witness the strange act.

"You could have left," he said softly. "You had the perfect opportunity to run, yet…you did not."

He turned to me, and stood fully. "You stayed."

I stopped biting, and parted my swollen lips. He sounded so moved. His voice was now gentle and calm, the complete opposite of what it sounded, only seconds before.

"Yes," I whispered. "I decided to stay."

I knew it was a lie, but it escaped from my mouth before I even properly thought things through. Did that mean something? I was not even going to ponder that conflicting idea.

I could not tell what Erik was thinking or feeling, his confusing ways left me numb. I could not even sort out my own thoughts, how in the world was I going to decipher the intricate working of this man.

So to end the terrible night, I did the only thing that was clear in my mind. I turned back to my room, and began to close the door.

"Christine," Erik called out again his voice soft, and inviting. "Would you like to dine with me tomorrow night?"

I shifted my head to the side, and look quizzically out of the corner of my eye. How could I deny him?

"Sure," I murmured, and further pushed the door.

"Fine, then tomorrow night," Erik replied. I nodded my head, not even bothering to look back at him. "Good night, Christine."

I did not call back.

When the door was closed, I leaned heavily against it, a full feeling of exhaustion compounding every part of my being.

The only thing that I clearly understood at that moment, was that there was no way I was going to sleep that night.


	11. I Never Know When To Say When

Morning came quickly, and sleep was nowhere in sight for me. Holding my head in my hands, I gazed out the window from the corner of my bed. I was not necessarily tired. I must admit that I slept rather peacefully in my new room for the past few months; basically the entire duration that I have been in this house.

I awaited the dinner that I was invited to, for several reason. One being, that even though this room was very large, it was starting to feel so confining and tiny. Any opportunity to leave would be exciting.

But most importantly, I wanted to see Erik. It was strange to feel that way, but it was not for positive reasons.

I wanted very vehemently to learn more about him. Marie always strove clear from discussing anything dealing with him in the past. Except the one warning conversation she shared with me. Plus, every encounter I had with him was impossible to make any conclusion from. His love was merely words, and his actions ran with his emotions, which shift uncontrollably from one spectrum to the complete opposite.

Did he really love me? That was the question that would not depart from my mind. Was his love an enigma? Was it a false, complex lie? I never received any love that was not friendly, or family related; so I had no way of judging this. My experiences in love of this kind were nonexistent. The only knowledge I had was from what I read in novels.

What would it feel like to be in love? How can someone distinguish love from an infatuation, or a deep feeling of lust? Love, when you really think about it, is such a strong word.

The only thing that I truly could comprehend at that moment was that I wanted desperately to someday feel that kind of love. Even if it's just for a small second. If love really is all that generations of people have measured it up to be, then that second should last me a lifetime.

The day passed relatively quickly, and before I knew it, dinner was only an hour away. I wore a plain black dress I found, some weeks earlier, at the back of my dressing cabinet. It was a v-necked, full sleeved, dress that ran down to a little above my knees. I tried to do something productive with my hair, but I decided to leave it down, since it was more comfortable. I'm not entirely sure if I felt excitement, or anxiousness, while I waited for the door to be unlocked, but my nerves were most definitely jumping about, with anticipation of some kind.

I stared at the door, awaiting the moment he would come to get me. In that short time, I thought over the situation of the mask. I could not understand why he still wore it. What could he possible be hiding? Was he deformed? Or was he still trying to keep his identity unrevealed? Worse, maybe it was some weird kick he got out of wearing it. From all of the strange qualities he has shown me, it was not an insane insinuation.

As I muddled through my thoughts, the bedroom door began to open. I stood up sharply, from my bed. Quickly, I tried to smooth out the fabric of the dress, and tugged it down to it's proper length. I looked up to the door expectantly, but halted my movements when Marie walked into the room.

In her hands she held my dinner tray. My eyes moved from her face to the food. She smiled fully when our eyes met.

"My, do you look pretty!" She said kindly. Walking to my side, next to the bed, she placed the tray on the covers. "I didn't even know there was a black dress in that old cabinet."

I opened my mouth in confusion, which she took as something different then the thought that was cruising through my mind.

"Don't worry. I'm allowed to speak to you again," She placed a hand on my upper arm. "I don't know why I wasn't allow to in the first place, but now we can go back to our normal chit-chats."

She sat on the bed, and immediately began to fill me in on every small happening around the house, that I had missed in the past few days. "Sit down. Eat." She gestured to the food.

Kneeling beside the bed, I quietly ate my dinner. Although it's terribly rude, and I hate to mislead Marie, I could not help but pretend to listen to her. I was severely lost in my head, and amongst many questions. It seemed that Marie did not know that Erik wanted to dine with me, but he would have let her know. Did he change his mind? Did I do unknowingly do something to anger him?

"Are you alright, dear?" I looked up to Marie, my face blank.

"Oh, I'm fine. Please tell me the rest of the news," I smiled. She dismissed her concern as meaningless and once again began to quickly jabber on.

When I finished my meal, Marie picked up the tray and walked to the door. "I have to bring this back to kitchen."

I watched her steadily. She was acting very peculiar, I thought. She did not even wish me a good night, like she usually does. I propped my chin in my palm, wondering why the dinner with Erik was cancelled.

My thoughts were interrupted when the sound of footsteps hastily approached the room. The door opened, and Marie once again peered her face through the opening.

"Are you ready?" She asked, the smile that was once on her face was now gone, but her voice still retain her usual kindness, although it was now dimly evident.

"W-what?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"I am to take you to Erik. Please hurry up, I talked to you for too long, and now we're late." I could see the meekness appear in her eyes, which only seem to come about when Erik was involved. I stepped quickly to her side, and closed the door.

She practically ran down the hallway, with me clumsily following her, in the terribly lighted area. Marie found her way with no problem, however, and almost immediately, we reached the destination. Stopping in front of one particular door, Marie gave me a small look that was given so quickly that I could not determine what it meant, then walked away.

I looked at the handle, for a moment. A feeling of fear was creeping up my stomach towards my chest. Glancing at the spot where Marie once stood, I could clearly picture her face and body, and the anxiety that was expressed. I clenched, and unclenched my hands.

I can do this, I told myself strongly. I can do this.

So, with those failing thoughts of encouragement, I quickly opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind me.

To my surprise, I stepped into a music room. It was not as fancily decorated as the other places around the house, but it was certainly a wonderful sight to behold. The large piano in the corner, the violin on a table, the sheets of music littered around the area, was all strangely comforting. There were only two large armchairs, which were arranged near a blazing fireplace. One empty chair faced me, while the other was turned away.

Hesitantly, I walked towards the empty chair. The room was very silent, except for the sound of the fire whipping softly about, and the random crack, or pop, from the deteriorating wood. Although I tried to look confident, I could not help but wring my hands together, as I looked about the room. Finally I stood before the chair.

"You are late," Erik's voice stated.

I whipped around, in a jumping movement, scared out of my wits. He sat in the opposite chair, with his legs crossed, and his arms perfectly resting on its sides. The gloved fingers on his hands, curled around the ends of the chairs arms.

He was not dressed as fully, as the other previous times that I saw him. At this moment, he still wore his black pants, and black top, but the top button on his shirt was undone, revealing very pale skin. I stared at that skin for a second, before averting my gaze so he would not notice. It felt strange to see that small patch of uncovered flesh, for it made me realize that he was a man, that he was actually real. Of course, I knew this already, but every time I saw him he was always a figure in black, making him appear fictionalized, an untouchable; now I could see that he was not something conjured in a dream, he was human like everyone else.

"I'm sorry," I replied, unsure of what to say. I looked deeply into his eyes, just as he did to my own person. He shifted his gaze down slightly, and very slowly nodded his head. Glancing behind me, I realized that he was gesturing for me to sit.

I grasped the end of my dress and lightly pulled down as I sat, to make sure it did not ride up. Crossing my ankles, and placing my hands on top of one another in my lap, I set my eyes upon his feet; for I did not dare to met his extreme stare.

"Would you like something to drink?" He suddenly asked. No emotion was evitable in his voice.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure."

I watched his legs uncross and move to stand. His feet disappeared from my vision as he walked to the other side of the room. Listening to his moving footsteps I continued to gaze at the bottom of the chair, where his legs once were.

The stiffening fear was still grasping my stomach, making my body a cautious state of high alert. I was paralyzed in my mind momentarily, still trying to gather some kind of understanding.

"You are a woman now," He said loudly, obviously showing that he knew that I was lost in my thoughts. His actions worked, and my concentration was restored. I snapped my head up to the sound of his voice. His body was turned, partially away from me, with his head twisted in a sly manner towards my direction.

"Are you not?" By the way he asked that question, I could imagine his eyebrows were possibly lifting in egotism.

I felt my face go rigid. The anger was starting to build within me, for his entire aura was simply wrecking self-satisfaction. That's how well he spoke; he could easily express his true thoughts without actually saying the words.

He turned away from me completely, and faced his back to me. I think we both knew that his point was driven across. I have been acting like a child, for me it was completely agreeable under the circumstances, for him I was an adolescent.

So, even though I knew in my heart that I was just a seventeen-year-old girl, I could not help but call out, "Yes, yes I am."

"Have you ever tasted wine before?" He asked, with a continuous tone that further pushes my anger. I was glaring at his back, but then halted when he spoke that question. It was then that I noticed the small table, with some liquor upon it; well, it really only had two bottles of wine, and one clear glass filled with a golden liquid.

"Yes," I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Just a glass, once."

"Would you like some?" He suddenly turned and held his arms out, which were holding a bottle of chilled white wine.

I looked up to his blank face. What was he getting at? Hesitation could not be denied on my part, but I answered, with a feeling of slight suspicion. "Okay."

His back immediately faced me again.

I only had been in the room a few seconds, and somehow he was already the dominating role in the conversation. It was so evident that he was completely confident and sure of himself. At least, that was what I was first lead to believe. But to get some equivalency back I changed the subject.

"I thought we were going to have dinner," I said quietly.

Pouring the drinks he answered quickly. "I do not dine with other people."

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I set myself back to normalcy when he began to walk back to the chairs, with both my drink, and a small glass with golden liquid in his hands. That was a strange statement to make, I thought.

"Then why did you ask me?" I asked, raising one eyebrow: not in a crass way, but an instinctive movement.

"My apologizes for misleading you, but this is what I truly meant," He replied handing my glass to me. He did not sound sorry, but I held my designation back when I removed the glass from his hands. I gently grasped the neck of the drink instead of the upper half, where Erik's long fingers spread around.

"I felt compelled to explain some things to you, since your confusion is unending," Erik said factually. He moved to sit and once again crossed his legs; only increasing his manly persona. In his right hand he grasped his drink, which he kept steady on his elevated thigh, and his left hand replaced itself on the arm of the chair.

I took a quick sip of the drink to stop myself from pursing my lips in agitation. Looking back to his unblinking eyes I swallowed the cool liquid.

Even though I tried, I could not hold his gaze for too long. I was just not strong enough. Whenever he looked at me, it was as if he could look directly into my mind and soul. There was no way that I could ever read his thoughts that early in our relationship; he was still a mysterious person that I felt I would never come to know.

"What would you like to talk to me about?" I said meekly. My god, I was so stupid and weak. I wish I could have had some backbone at that time, instead of the fearful little girl I was. Maybe if I was more dependent on my feelings, then certain conflicts could have been deflected; of course, I had no way of knowing that.

"You are the confused one, my dear," He said. He called me dear, I thought. Not only that, he called me his dear. "What would you like to know?"

I did not like his tone. He was so cynical, in every word that he spoke. Could you blame me for reacting? I snapped my head up to his and said icily, "Why don't you start with last night?"

Our gazes locked, and even though he did not break it by blinking, I could see his eyes held something that differed from the egotism it held before. Was he taken aback by my own anger? Well, I thought with satisfaction, that's a taste of your own medicine.

He breathed very deeply and moved his eyes down to his glass. "Last night…." He began, yet paused. Erik's voice was unchanging from before, but I sensed that something was brewing inside of him. That he was once again going to shift his mood; just by the way that he looked at the unmoving liquid in his glass, with such determination, as if it had to be closely examined, I knew that he was searching for the right things to say.

"I went to your room to check on you," His voice dropped very low in volume. I do not know if it was the emotion it held, or the dimness in which he spoke them, but I found myself leaning forward in my chair, ever so slightly.

"You were not there," Erik said. Was it sadness, I heard in his voice, or was it simply that he was so lost in the memory of the night before.

"I felt a terrible fear and…" His words died down to silence. I was gripped to every word that he said. He was literally moving me with his voice, but his body was completely still. That was how domineering his presence was, it was impossible to overcome it.

"I reacted badly," he stated lamely. Finally he looked up, but not to me. Instead he looked at the blazing fireplace.

That was it, I thought. He made me so frightened, and all he could say was that he reacted badly? He was opening up to me…somewhat, and I had to take advantage of that so I could not help but press on with more questions.

"Will the bathroom lock ever be replaced?" I asked.

"No," He said immediately. The reflective mode was broken, as he looked back at me. His eyes glazed by the orange glow casted out by the flames of the fire. "What happened in the bathroom will never take place again. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, although inside I was screaming that it was not my fault. He sighed in a manly, agitated way and once again turned to watch the fire.

While his concentration was not on me, I took in his appearance. The pale skin that was revealed, the black attire, the way the moving shadows shifted around his body from the light issued by the fire, but most especially his mask. He held a drink in his hand, did that mean that he was going to remove his mask to actually consume it? Or was the drink only for show?

In the back of my mind a small voice was screaming to not ask the next question that was buzzing within me, but he did say that he would answer anything I was confused about.

"Your mask," I said casually. "Why don't you take it off."

He did not react to what I said, so I kept talking…like the fool that I was.

"I could not help but notice that you have a drink with you. Since we are married, you can show me your face. You can actually drink it if you want. I don't mind." I looked closely at him, but he still did not move in the least.

"I really don't mind…" Suddenly Erik uncrossed his legs. He stood sharply, and with a stiff arm, threw the glass into the fireplace. His shoulders were raised to meet almost meet his ears, and his blank face looked directly at me.

He moved so swiftly and quick that I dropped my own glass in shock. The wine glass shattered on the ground, making an echo coarse throughout the room.

"Remove my mask?" He said quietly.

My wide eyes watched as he very slowly, in tiny, deliberate steps moved closer to me. I watched him come closer, all the while hearing a dull scream in my heart. The fear was once again holding and crippling me.

My head fragmentally rose to continue our fearful gaze.

He finally stood before me, and I swear that not a breath was taken, and not a thought was entailed. I was frozen in a perusing fright.

Darkness encased his face, for the light was behind him. I shifted my eyes about that bleak nothingness, trying to find his eyes.

My attempts were halted when Erik's hand lifted slowly. I looked to his approaching hand. His palm was open. And his fingers were softly spread, like he was reaching, or even begging. The gloved hand slide along my cheek, until his fingers slightly passed my hairline.

With the tips of his fingers betwixt the strands of my hair, his cupped palm laying on my cheek, and his entire thumb aligning under my jaw, Erik pulled my face up.

At first I thought he just wanted me to look back to his face, but he continued to gently push. My legs straightened beneath me, and I slowly stood.

Our bodies grazed one another, for we were so close, and our faces were tilted to look closely at each other. Mine was arched up, while his was bent down.

"Christine," Erik whispered. "I wish…"

He continued to pull me closer.


	12. Still I Beg For More

"I wish," Erik whispered.

The words floated through the air, and rested gently on my ears. So much tenderness filled those two words; yet it was a feeling that I refused to recline to.

However, I let him hold me within such a short distance of one another, for I was afraid of what his reaction would be if I pulled away. Our faces were so very close. So close, that I even felt my breath, that escaped through my parted lips, bounce off of his mask and onto my skin.

"Christine," He whispered. I felt his thumb, which stayed anchored beneath my jaw, lightly put pressure on my skin. "You must never see my face."

Those words were slowly spoken, with a hint of some kind of emotion that I could not place. I looked deeply into his eyes, confused as to why he would say such a thing, and what the reasons were behind it. He gazed back with both of his orbs glistening from the firelight.

"W-why," I stuttered quietly. My hands that were suspended in air came down to clasp the ends of my dress. I needed to feel something in my hands, to calm me, in any way possible. So to aid my fright and uncertainty, I violently squeezed the fabric, yet it did little to help. Nonetheless, I did not halt in my actions.

Erik's eyes left my own, as he ever so slightly tilted his head to the side. His gaze shifted around every inch of my face. My own eyes looked down. The was he was intently studying my entire appearance made me feel so uncomfortable. No one ever looked at me that way before.

Suddenly, I felt his gloved fingers, which were placed just placed my hairline, moved back; involuntarily making my eyes lift to look quizzically at him. He slowly pushed his fingers through the strands of my hair, down and around my ear, and finally to my neck. All the while Erik watched his traveling hand in fascination.

The action was so prolonged, that I sensed and felt every movement distinctly. The shift of my hair, the way the leather from his glove grazed my ear, and the tingling sensation created by his fingertips gently skimming over my neck.

The tips of his fingers barely touched the skin on my neck, but they were indeed making contact; a fact, both Erik and I clearly understood .

Erik looked intensely at my neck as he lightly stroked it. I was confused and even intrigued when I realized that the strange emotion held in his eyes, appeared to be amazement. What could that mean?

His fingers began to touch my skin deeper. No longer was he just grazing the surface of my skin; slowly his touches became more intense.

Stronger, and almost with an urgency, he moved his long hand back and forth, becoming more daring each time. My throat closed in fear as to what he was doing, and I could feel the fabric of the dress harshly rub into my palms, caused by my own persistent tugging.

I had no idea what he was doing, and it felt strange and frightening.

"Stop!" I exclaimed. My command was answered. Erik halted his pressing fingers and flicked his eyes away from my neck to met my own orbs.

"Don't..." I gulped unconsciously. "Don't do that."

His penetrating eyes darted into mine, and I swear I could hear the unspoken scream coming from my heart. No matter how hard I tried, I just could not read what he was thinking.

With his eyes perusing my own, I once again felt his hand move. This time his fingers slipped beneath my hair and wrapped around the back of my neck. His thumb was perpendicular from his other long fingers, and laid before my ear. Erik's other hand quickly raised and placed itself in the same position on the other side of my face. That sensation of his gloved thumb distinctly pushing down made a stone of fear drop into my stomach.

My eyes filled with tears. I tried desperately to hold them back, but my eyelids would not blink. They too were frozen in fear and shock. Watching his meeting gaze, I could feel his grip on my face and neck tighten even more.

"Christine," he said again. This time when he spoke my name, it was filled with a full malice tone. My hands squeezed my dress like never before.

"You," his voice was low and rumbling. His anger and threatening tone dominated the room, and ultimately myself as well.

"Must never..." Suddenly Erik shook my head in a single, sharp movement as he spoke the word, never.

"Ever..." Once again he repeated the action, and like a rag doll my head moved unwillingly in his forceful hands.

Erik paused for a moment.

My skin felt cold and clammy as waves of nervousness rippled up and down my body. The tears that clouded my vision did not fall down my face, instead they too remained still. It seemed that Erik not only owned me as his wife, but he also had the power to control my very being. For at that moment I was paralyzed, and fully held underneath Erik's invisible, yet evermore increasingly apparent power.

He held my face so tightly that the skin felt as if it was beginning to bruise. It did not appear that Erik realized how forcefully he was holding me. He appeared to be lost in his deep thoughts, as he gazed into my eyes.

Suddenly he once again spoke, and his words and voice held a finality that stopped any notion in my mind to question him.

"...See my face."


	13. No Candlelight

PLEASE READ THIS NOTE- The chapter was late a day because of problems I am having with my computer. But I really wanted to have the next chapter out, so this chapter was cut in half then what it originally was planned to be; because I had to do this on my friends computer, and I had limited time. So sorry! I promise I will have the next installment up very shortly. Thank you!!

The next days were long, and quite frankly boring. I spent the entire duration in my room, locked up like some cage animal. In a way, I was happy that I had a small break from Erik. The last encounter was by far the most confusing yet.

Marie slightly hinted to me that I was not the only one who was affected by the strange night.

While she was once again arguing about the cook she said, "Well the woman is in a complete fiddle right now, because the master hasn't eaten in the last couple of days. Everyone is rubbing it in-saying that it's her food, not his appetite."

Marie laughed heartedly when she explained the embarrassment of the cook, but all I heard was the reference to Erik.

"He's not eating?" I suddenly asked, even though I tried to hold myself back. The laughter caught in Marie's throat as she heard my question.

When he finally did call on me to "dine" with him again several days later, it was terribly awkward. Not only for me, but for him as well. I could hear in his voice that the confidence he held so strongly since I first met him, was beginning to dwindle.

Erik tried to build a conversation, but I could not find it in myself to carry it on, or to reply in any way. So instead, we basically spent the time in silence.

He did not stop requesting my presence though, and before I would go to sleep I would spend two, to three uncomfortable hours sitting across from him. I would always be seated with my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my back straight and upright, and both my feet laying flat on the floor, with my knees pressed together.

Erik would also be seated in an agitated state. Almost every night, his arms would be crossed, with his hands clenching his opposite elbows. His feet also stayed anchored on the floor, and his legs were always spread slightly wider then necessary, as if he was trying to feign casualness; but instead it only made him appear thoroughly annoyed-which he probably was.

In a strange way however, our nightly meetings formulated into something close to a casualness.

We both would stare at the fire, and mumble simple statements to each other, like, "how was your day", "did you enjoy you meal", and I would answer with a "okay", "yeah", "sure". In one way I had no idea what to say, in another sense I was afraid of saying the wrong thing to him, that could lead to the frightening Erik I had so closely become related to.

But I could feel a growing restlessness in Erik.

It was always as if he wanted to say something, but he never had the guts to actually speak his thoughts. Or it would be his intense stares that seemed so filled with longing, and a deep want, yet he would never act up it. To sum it up perfectly, Erik wanted to be near me, yet he feared me at the same time.

For example, one night as we sat opposite from one another in silence, and I stared deeply into the fireplace, I found myself slowly becoming relaxed, something I fought against every time I was in his music room, merely so that I could keep my guard up. But that night I could not help it.

I was wearing the same black dress that I wore the first night I spent in this room, which seem to only mold on me like a second skin. Also the chair was terribly comfortable, and the room was set to such an admirable temperature, that the dimly lite room held such a welcoming atmosphere.

My head slowly shifted so that it leaned a bit more heavily on the chair, and so that I had a better view of the flickering flames I loved to gaze at. My grasping hands, untwined themselves; leaving my palms facing up towards the ceiling. My leg raised to cross my other leg, and one of my hands reached up to twirl a lone strand of my ruly hair, while my other hand continued to lie comfortably on my lap.

Each movement I made was slow and precise. A smile actually came to my lips, for I was just so content and calm in that one long moment.

The moment was shattered when I sensed Erik's eyes upon me. Without moving my body, I shifted my eyes to look upon him.

Erik's eyes were wide and watery. His body was completely tense within his seat, as if on alert. The stifling gaze he held, which read an emotion so profound that I could not place it, darted up and down my body.

I too looked down at myself to see that the end of my dress moved up my legs, when I crossed them. Now my legs were exposed to the middle of my thigh, on both the top and lower leg. When I realized what appearance was like I quickly straightened my legs and planted my feet on the floor. My hand released my hair and joined the other palm on my lap.

My back straightened and in the tiniest voice imaginable I asked, "May I go now?"

I sat for a second in the chair, and waited for his reply, but found him to be mute. I could not look back at him, so instead I bore a hole in the ground because I stared so deeply at it. His silence was too much for me, and with another moment of hesitation I left the room, embarrassed out of my mind.

The next night he acted like nothing happened, and continued to ask the same old dull questions that I heard every other night. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt his usual gazes to be slightly longer and lingering then the were every other night. But I may have been mistaken.

It was two weeks later that our relationship was ultimately changed forever.


	14. To Make A Work Of Art

I became use to wearing long pants to my nightly meetings with Erik, and within good reason. For I wanted to take every single precaution possible to prevent that embarrassing fiasco (involving my dress) to reoccur. It was quite annoying actually, because constantly over the later two weeks I would vividly remember what happened.

So it's sufficed to say that every time I saw in my minds eye, my obliviousness to my own actions, and the strange, and unbidden stares that Erik delivered, I felt like smacking myself in the head. To tell the truth at times I actually did-it couldn't be helped, for it was such a pesky, unwanted memory.

But the repercussions of that night were much more serious than my embarrassment. Every moment I spent in Erik's presence now held a different layer of alertness. Strangely I began to become slightly accustomed to Erik's stares, but know there was a deep emotion, that either was born that night with the dress, or it was always within himself and it could not be kept concealed.

Whatever caused it, I knew that something serious was swimming within Erik's mind. Something so strong that it beguiled him enough to drop his guard every, know and then, which allowed me to discover it. And with his sixth sense about everything, I understood the enormity of that fact.

The fact that Erik was distressed enough to loose his concentration, and to not conceal his emotions.

I went into his music room with my usual feelings of uncertainty. My eyes downcasted, gazing strongly at my shoes, I opened and closed the door. Walking practically like a zombie, I made my way to the armchair I occupied every night. I sat without looking across to the other armchair, and waited to hear the usual "Hello, Christine" from Erik.

That reply did not come. My gaze raised, and to my surprise the chair was empty. In fact Erik was nowhere within the room.

I could not believe it. Where could he be? What could he be doing? For all the months that I knew him, he was never late.

But in the millisecond that it took me to digest the strangeness of Erik's absence, I quickly realized the delicious fact that I now held, for a short amount of time in the least, this room in my power. I could hopefully find a clue, a message, anything really, that could possibly explain something of this man who I was forced to spend time with, yet knew nothing really about.

With hesitating steps I made my way over to his piano. I could see behind it, in the corner, beside the liquor table, was a chest of drawers. The only one within the room.

The piano was littered with so many music papers. Each paper held dozens of music notes, that could have been written in Latin or Chinese to me, because I could not read it at all. However at the top held the title of each piece. My eyes grazed over them lightly, and I slowly pushed them around, trying to decipher their meaning, if any.

My breath hitched in my throat however, when I came upon one piece of music paper, entitled, _Christine_.

He..he wrote a song about me? I thought amazed.

My eyes widened, as I stared at my name. I wished so vehemently that I could read music, at that moment. What would it sound like?

As my mind pondered, I could not shake off some strange feeling within me.

It started in the center of my chest, and slowly spread to encompass my lungs, literally taking my breath away. It was a warm, softly pulsating feeling.

"Oh..."I sighed.

My eyelids lowered, and softened in their gaze.

"Oh Erik."

Sorry guys due to more computer problems I had to cut this chapter short again. But I will try to get the second half of it on by tonight.


	15. I've Learned My Lesson

The song was intriguing-dangerously so. I never felt such a wonderful emotion swell beneath my breast.Unfortunately, my curiosity was heighten to an astonishing degree and I could not help but continue searching among the various papers on Erik's piano. Even though a voice in the back of my mind shouted the possible consequences for my actions, namely Erik finding out what I was doing, I still continued.

Who knew when I would receive another chance to find out the mysteries of my husband.

Fumbling through the papers I paused when a manilla envelope caught my eye. Ignoring the warning bells in my head I took the package in my hands and quickly dumped it's contents onto the piano.

What I saw made my heart leap into my throat.

Dozens of photographs stared up at me in croaked angles and messy arrangements, but the subject manner of the pictures were all the same. They were all photos of me. Me walking to my car, me at work, me speaking to my father, me leaving school, me reading in the park-the list goes on and on.

I didn't know what to say, or to think. All of these photos were taken before I was even aware of Erik's existence, for how long I couldn't be sure. It could be very possible that Erik had stalked and followed me for months, maybe even years before I actually came to know him in the flesh.

This explains why he knows so much about me; not just the obvious facts like, where I live, but my

personal traits. The nagging feeling I always had, that Erik could at times read my thoughts or predict my actions, seems very plausible now.

"What are you doing?" A voice rumbled.

I gasped audibly and whipped around. Erik stood just past the entrance to the room, with the doorknob clasped in his gloved hand.

I watched his eyes glance from me to the contents upon his piano, and although I could not clearly read his eyes across the room, his voice and stance betrayed him-I knew he was alarmed.

In retrospect I am amazed at the emotion that suddenly captured me, but it did happen. The anger sparked inside of me and rapidly grew till I could no longer hold my tongue.

"What is this?" I gestured to the piles of photos on the piano.

"That is none of your concern," he grumbled. His face tilted forward, extenuating his golden eyes which bore into my own.

"I want an answer." I stated strongly.

"I said they are none of your concern. I should have guessed that you would be snooping around." He sneered. "Your just not to be trusted, my dear."

I did not move. My gaze was steadfast, and for once I was challenging him back.

"They are photographs, obviously." He replied with sarcasm.

My eyes watered and stung, but I refused to blink and relent. How dare he answer with such egotism. The rage that harbored in my heart since the beginning of my life in this house was surging through my mind and body, begging to be set free. I could hold it back no longer.

With surprising vigor I shouted, "Yes but why are they pictures of me!"

Erik flinched back in shock.

"You were stalking me for months and you think that that's fine! You stole me from my home and my life! And the sick thing is that you probably have planned all of this for months! Maybe even years! What is wrong with you!"

If I saw his face I would image he would open and close his mouth stupidly, trying to find something to say. Well...now he knows how it feels.

"The thing that really gets me- the one thing I really want to understand is what possessed you to think that I would actually enjoy being married to you! After all that you have done to me! I don't understand how you could ever love me because I have not seen this so called love at all! In case you didn't know, normal people do not stalk, spy, kidnap, blackmail, entrap, or whatever the hell you want to call it-to those they say they love! Don't you get it? I hate you! I wish I never met you! I wish I never married you! I wish-"

"I WISH I NEVER SAW YOU!" Erik screamed back at me, his voice easily surpassing my own in volume and emotion. The intense power of his voice and rumble in its depths jarred my fear alive.

I jumped in fright at his anger. Many times I have experienced his rage...but this, by far, was the worst. With incredible speed he came at me and grabbed onto my suspended, waning arms. Suddenly he whipped his body around, flinging my body with his. I stubbled at the sudden alert movement and fell, but his fingers were gauged into my skin with painful accuracy.

I landed painfully on my knees and found my nerves suddenly confused as to whether the true epitome of pain was in my burning knee caps, my manhandled forearms, or...my heart. I hung my head down pathetically and looked upon the floor.

Why did I say those things? Why couldn't I keep my damn mouth shut? Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. That's all I am.

I don't know how his tall body could formulate in such a manner, but somehow Erik crouched down so that his head came alongside my own. His cold, porcelain mask grazed my cheek; involuntarily I shivered at the contact. I did not doubt that Erik took notice.

"I wish I never saw you, you viper."He whispered directly into my ear. "From the moment you entered my line of vision on that fateful day I could think of nothing else. Suddenly my life was changed..."

My hearted pounded faster and louder than humanly possible.

"At first... I thought that the new emotion that overwhelmed me was merely lust. It is not everyday that someone sees a beauty of your caliber." He candidly whispered to me.

"I-I'm not beaut-" I croaked pathetically.

"Yes you are Christine," Erik said louder. "You are also however, very naive. I knew that about you at once. I decided that I had to keep a watchful eye on you, and I realized...as I grew to know about you personally, that...that..."

I drew my head back slowly. I was frightened to actually meet his eyes straight on, but I needed to know if I could read any truth in his naked eyes. As if we were drawn to each other by some unknown force, his gaze also settle upon me.

"That I loved you."

There it was-that sparkle that would wink out from his luminous gaze ever now and then. Does this mean...that his words ring true?

"I know that it was selfish to follow you constantly, to take you unfairly as my wife, but I loved you. I love you so much...too much. In such a way that it hurts."

Erik ever so slightly shook his head as his revealed eyelids molded strangely-an action that may have been caused by his unseen eyebrows creasing together.

"It breaks my heart to see you here, and to see you depressed."

I parted my lips and sucked in a small amount of air. It was the first time he ever acknowledged my sadness.

"My chest burns with pain when you are not by my side, and when you are here it kills me...for I know, with no sense of doubt in my being, that you will never come to love me as a wife loves a husband."

A glaze momentarily flooded his eyes. But before I could try to understand what emotion might have caused it, anger quickly shielded all of the insecurities that his orbs held-they narrowed into dangerous slits, the kind I regrettably knew to well.

"So, as you can conclude, I wish I never saw you." The dangerous tone was evident in his voice once again. I could feel his fingers, which for some time lessen in their hold, snap back to action as they dug unmercifully into my skin. "You have no idea the amount of suffering you have casted upon me."

His words were too candid, so uncaring at the affliction they may cause. Erik succeeded, as he always does. He choose his words carefully to harm me, and he did just that.

Oh my god, I thought. All this time...all of this time I have been calling him the monster when in all actuality it was me who was the cause of this madness. I knew I was not entirely to blame, but a good deal of this grief was initially brought on by my own being.

I looked at Erik's hateful glare through new eyes. A clarity suddenly ensnared me.

I know how you feel Erik, I thought astounded. I understood his pain-for I had been experiencing it for months. I understood his confusion, his despair, and his limited knowledge on how to deal with the situation.

Erik...you really do love me.

I have been so silly and stupid, but now I understand. I want to let you know I understand...but how? My ears went deaf, and black dots clouded my vision. A single thought suddenly eclipsed all others in my mind.

Slowly, with my doleful eyes staring into his stabbing, angry gaze, I leaned forward. My chest swelled emotionally in anticipation to what I was about to do. But there was no turning back. My last though before I fulfilled my deed sang through my body.

Erik, you poor man. I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

Gingerly I placed my lips on the dead, cold lips of Erik's mask.


	16. Once There Was A Spark

My action was unexpected-to say the least. However, no matter what the repercussions may have amounted to I never came to regret what I did that night. I can still remember the moment with amazing clarity. Erik's frozen body, so close to my own, his wide, surprised eyes, which stared at me unrelenting, and the feeling of his latched fingers bruising my arms.

I withdrew my lips from his mask as I looked up at him shyly, and despite myself, with some small element of fear. A feeling of hope overwhelmed my being; I wondered whether what I did would dull the sharp distress my role has ultimately played in our relationship, if such a thing was possible. His amber orbs implored my own with emotions I could not concur, and his clinging fingertips began to feel all the more desperate as the moment grew longer...and longer.

My throat felt parched and thin. I racked my thoughts for something to say, but everything in my head was helplessly jumbled and disoriented. What could he be feeling? His body did not display anything more than what I hoped would be a strange sort of happiness from Erik, but my interpreting skills would soon prove to be insufficient once more.

We remained in that strange position for such a long time: Erik crouched over my frame, like a creature more than a man, while I kneeled on the floor as Erik's strong, unmerciful hands held me captive. Time seemed to stretch, and with each passing second, I grew all the more uncomfortable, and quite frankly afraid. Slowly I began to move my face away from his as I leaned my body slightly back.

Without moving or increasing his grip on arms he mumbled, "What game are you playing at?"

I looked to his eyes with shock. Of all the statements he could make-why on Earth would he utter that.

"I don't understand," I softly replied, surprisingly finding my voice. Erik's eyes perused my face, but remained silent.

As I watched him the air became suddenly thicker, and more intense. The hair raised on the back of my neck, and my joints locked in place. Erik slowly lifted his chin and watched me steadily; intensely examining me with his all-knowing eyes. Somehow my body continued to steadily breath even though the growing feeling of alarm pushed me into such a state of insecurity.

I knew at that moment that I had to leave; to retreat back to my room before something terrible would take place. Gingerly I distanced myself from my husband and when ample space came between our two bodies I moved to stand. I rose from my knees, making sure to not break our gaze.

Erik's iron grip slid down my arms as I ascended. The feeling his grazing fingers created was almost tender, and I could not deny the tingling sensation shooting from my shoulders to my fingertips. Despite that feeling I knew I had to get back to my room-I might not have understood Erik's emotions from moment to moment, but I certainly was becoming better at reading danger in the air-something which was growing by the very second.

I shortly paused when I was finally standing and started to turn my body to walk out the door.

Like lightening Erik reached out and clasped my hand in his. I drew my breath inward sharply, completely surprised. Our hands had never touched in this manner before and suddenly I was struck with the desire to feel his skin touching my own, instead of the black, leather from his glove.

What where did that feeling come from?

I quickly glanced from my grasped hand to his incredible eyes, silently wondering why such a desire arose in me. Our intense gaze became fueled with unspoken utterances. What could possibly be going on behind those amber eyes of his?

Unknowingly, my lips parted and my eyelids softened-for some reason I could not contain myself at all. I watched him slowly rise from his crouched position till his tall figure, once again, towered over me. Erik looked down at me with an unreadable gaze.

"I..." Quickly I looked to the floor. "I want to go back to my room."

Silence answered me. Unbearable silence.

From my viewpoint of the floor I could see our hands. It was quite beautiful actually, the palness of my skin compared to the blackness of his gloved hand, and the way he held my hand-so gently, no desperate clinging, or hard clasping. Finally after a few moments I rose my face to look at Erik.

His amber eyes said nothing. We stood their for what seemed like an eternity, all the while I stood there, I found myself desiring to hear his voice and maybe understand what he was truly feeling at that moment. I knew all to well that the other side of Erik, the rage driven masked man, could much more easily appear then the tender man who sometimes showed up.

Say something Christine, I thought to myself. Let him know how you feel.

Suddenly, without any warning Erik released my hand wordlessly. Like the coward I am I left the room without hesitation.


End file.
